North East Wind

A north east wind is touching tired men,

They lift their eyes in wonder,

Over the bridge and under

The light grows alien.

A tug is purple that before was gray,

The sunless arch is brighter,

Seagulls are whiter, whiter -

Disquieted as they,

The men have straightened in the freshening air.

They see, instead of danger,

This clarity that's stranger

Than any new despair:

A substance in the distances they scan,

And on the bridge and nearer,

Approaching them and clearer

The wonder that is Man.