Three Miniatures

The wind stood up and gave a shout.
He whistled on his fingers and
Kicked the withered leaves about
And thumped the branches with his hand
And said that he'd kill and kill,
And so he will and so he will.

The hill is bare : I only find 
The grass, the sky, and one small tree 
Tossing wildly on the wind ; 
And that is all there is to see : 
A tree, a hill, a wind, a sky 
Where nothing ever passes by. 

There always is a noise when it is dark ; 
It is the noise of silence and the noise 
Of blindness. 
The noise of silence and the noise of blindness 
Do frighten me, 
They hold me stark and rigid as a tree !
These frighten me, 
These hold me stark and rigid as a tree ! 
Because at last their tumult is more loud 
Than thunder. 
Because at last 
Their tumult is more loud than thunder : 
They terrify my soul, 
They tear my heart asunder !