Blow, Blow ...

Strike down,
O marble wind,
Out of the moon:

Drop your sharp tendrils
Down from the marshalled stars.

Blow into Kentish Town
From Highgate, Highbury:

Hammer ascetic tunes
On the stretched purgatory of Camden Road.

March,
An invading host,
To ravish Bloomsbury:
Or
Like the passionate breath of Linnell’s guest
Leap out of Hampstead.