A WORD WITH THE WIND by Algernon Charles Swinburne: Summary, Meaning & Analysis
A poet stands by the sea, pleading with the wind to shift — moving away from the harsh north-easter that has left the waves in a cold, listless calm, towards the powerful south-wester that will bring the ocean back to life.
The poem
Lord of days and nights that hear thy word of wintry warning, Wind, whose feet are set on ways that none may tread, Change the nest wherein thy wings are fledged for flight by morning, Change the harbour whence at dawn thy sails are spread. Not the dawn, ere yet the imprisoning night has half released her, More desires the sun's full face of cheer, than we, Well as yet we love the strength of the iron-tongued north-easter, Yearn for wind to meet us as we front the sea. All thy ways are good, O wind, and all the world should fester, Were thy fourfold godhead quenched, or stilled thy strife: Yet the waves and we desire too long the deep south-wester, Whence the waters quicken shoreward, clothed with life. Yet the field not made for ploughing save of keels nor harrowing Save of storm-winds lies unbrightened by thy breath: Banded broad with ruddy samphire glow the sea-banks narrowing Westward, while the sea gleams chill and still as death. Sharp and strange from inland sounds thy bitter note of battle, Blown between grim skies and waters sullen-souled, Till the baffled seas bear back, rocks roar and shingles rattle, Vexed and angered and anhungered and acold. Change thy note, and give the waves their will, and all the measure, Full and perfect, of the music of their might, Let it fill the bays with thunderous notes and throbs of pleasure, Shake the shores with passion, sound at once and smite. Sweet are even the mild low notes of wind and sea, but sweeter Sounds the song whose choral wrath of raging rhyme Bids the shelving shoals keep tune with storm's imperious metre, Bids the rocks and reefs respond in rapturous chime. Sweet the lisp and lulling whisper and luxurious laughter, Soft as love or sleep, of waves whereon the sun Dreams, and dreams not of the darkling hours before nor after, Winged with cloud whose wrath shall bid love's day be done. Yet shall darkness bring the awakening sea a lordlier lover, Clothed with strength more amorous and more strenuous will, Whence her heart of hearts shall kindle and her soul recover Sense of love too keen to lie for love's sake still. Let thy strong south-western music sound, and bid the billows Brighten, proud and glad to feel thy scourge and kiss Sting and soothe and sway them, bowed as aspens bend or willows, Yet resurgent still in breathless rage of bliss. All to-day the slow sleek ripples hardly bear up shoreward, Charged with sighs more light than laughter, faint and fair, Like a woodland lake's weak wavelets lightly lingering forward, Soft and listless as the slumber-stricken air. Be the sunshine bared or veiled, the sky superb or shrouded, Still the waters, lax and languid, chafed and foiled, Keen and thwarted, pale and patient, clothed with fire or clouded, Vex their heart in vain, or sleep like serpents coiled. Thee they look for, blind and baffled, wan with wrath and weary, Blown for ever back by winds that rock the bird: Winds that seamews breast subdue the sea, and bid the dreary Waves be weak as hearts made sick with hope deferred. Let thy clarion sound from westward, let the south bear token How the glories of thy godhead sound and shine: Bid the land rejoice to see the land-wind's broad wings broken, Bid the sea take comfort, bid the world be thine. Half the world abhors thee beating back the sea, and blackening Heaven with fierce and woful change of fluctuant form: All the world acclaims thee shifting sail again, and slackening Cloud by cloud the close-reefed cordage of the storm. Sweeter fields and brighter woods and lordlier hills than waken Here at sunrise never hailed the sun and thee: Turn thee then, and give them comfort, shed like rain and shaken Far as foam that laughs and leaps along the sea.
A poet stands by the sea, pleading with the wind to shift — moving away from the harsh north-easter that has left the waves in a cold, listless calm, towards the powerful south-wester that will bring the ocean back to life. The poem reads like a love letter to stormy weather, suggesting that both the sea and the onlookers need the wild, passionate wind to truly feel alive. By the end, everyone is invited to celebrate when the right wind finally arrives.
Line-by-line
Lord of days and nights that hear thy word of wintry warning, / Wind, whose feet are set on ways that none may tread,
Not the dawn, ere yet the imprisoning night has half released her, / More desires the sun's full face of cheer, than we,
All thy ways are good, O wind, and all the world should fester, / Were thy fourfold godhead quenched, or stilled thy strife:
Yet the field not made for ploughing save of keels nor harrowing / Save of storm-winds lies unbrightened by thy breath:
Sharp and strange from inland sounds thy bitter note of battle, / Blown between grim skies and waters sullen-souled,
Change thy note, and give the waves their will, and all the measure, / Full and perfect, of the music of their might,
Sweet are even the mild low notes of wind and sea, but sweeter / Sounds the song whose choral wrath of raging rhyme
Sweet the lisp and lulling whisper and luxurious laughter, / Soft as love or sleep, of waves whereon the sun
Yet shall darkness bring the awakening sea a lordlier lover, / Clothed with strength more amorous and more strenuous will,
Let thy strong south-western music sound, and bid the billows / Brighten, proud and glad to feel thy scourge and kiss
All to-day the slow sleek ripples hardly bear up shoreward, / Charged with sighs more light than laughter, faint and fair,
Be the sunshine bared or veiled, the sky superb or shrouded, / Still the waters, lax and languid, chafed and foiled,
Thee they look for, blind and baffled, wan with wrath and weary, / Blown for ever back by winds that rock the bird:
Let thy clarion sound from westward, let the south bear token / How the glories of thy godhead sound and shine:
Half the world abhors thee beating back the sea, and blackening / Heaven with fierce and woful change of fluctuant form:
Sweeter fields and brighter woods and lordlier hills than waken / Here at sunrise never hailed the sun and thee:
Tone & mood
The tone is both rapturous and incantatory — Swinburne seems to be chanting a prayer to the wind, with long rolling lines that mimic the movement of waves. Beneath the beauty lies a sense of urgency: the speaker truly desires change. The mood fluctuates between frustrated longing (when describing the calm sea) and exhilarated anticipation (whenever the south-wester is envisioned coming). It never veers into despair because the speaker remains confident that the wind will eventually arrive.
Symbols & metaphors
- The South-Wester — The south-wester isn't just a compass direction; it symbolizes a passionate, life-giving energy—the kind that awakens everything and helps them become their true selves. It's the hero of the poem, the very force that both the speaker and the sea are eagerly anticipating.
- The North-Easter — The north-easter symbolizes constraint, frustration, and misdirected power. It isn't evil; Swinburne acknowledges its own strength. However, it pushes against life instead of flowing with it, leaving the sea in a gloomy, stagnant state.
- The Calm Sea — The calm ocean represents potential energy that is trapped and wasted. The imagery of 'serpents coiled' indicates that this stillness isn't peace; it's suppression—a powerful force waiting to be unleashed but unable to act.
- Music and Song — Swinburne often uses musical language to depict the wind and sea — talking about notes, metre, choral wrath, and chime. This portrays nature as a cosmic performance, with the right wind acting as the conductor capable of bringing the entire orchestra to life.
- The Lover — The storm-wind is referred to as a 'lordlier lover' compared to the gentle sun. This sensual metaphor permeates the poem's middle section, depicting the sea's connection with the south-wester as both passionate and physical — the storm doesn't merely move the sea, it brings it to life.
- Foam — Foam emerges at the end of the poem as a symbol of pure joyful release — it 'laughs and leaps.' After all the sighing ripples and coiled stillness, foam indicates that the right wind has finally taken effect.
Historical context
Swinburne wrote this poem at the peak of his fame as one of the most technically impressive — and controversial — poets of Victorian England. He spent a good part of his life by the sea, especially on the Isle of Wight and later in Putney, with the ocean being a lifelong fascination that inspired many of his poems. By the 1860s and 70s, he had crafted his signature style: exceptionally long lines filled with alliteration and internal rhyme, meant to replicate the physical feeling of waves and wind. "A Word with the Wind" fits within this tradition of sea odes, sharing a space with works like "The Triumph of Time" and "By the North Sea." The poem references classical notions of the four winds as gods (the ancient Greeks called them Boreas, Notus, Eurus, and Zephyrus), but Swinburne removes the mythology and replaces it with something more immediate and sensory — a man on a beach, longing for a change in the weather.
FAQ
The speaker is requesting the wind to change direction from the north-east to the south-west. The north-easter has left the sea calm and dull, and the speaker longs for the south-wester to come in and bring the waves to life with a powerful crash. On the surface, this is a simple wish for better weather; on a deeper level, it's a yearning for passion and vitality to replace stagnation.
The speaker speaks directly to the wind, treating it like a god or lord that can choose its own path. This technique, known as apostrophe, involves addressing something that can't literally hear you, which lends the poem a sense of prayer or incantation.
Swinburne's use of alliteration is intentional and structural, rather than merely decorative. Phrases such as 'slow sleek ripples' and 'lax and languid' feature repeated sounds that slow down the reader and reflect the sluggish calm he describes. When the storm imagery hits, the alliteration quickens and sharpens — 'rocks roar and shingles rattle' — to align with the intensity. The poem's sound is designed to evoke the essence of the sea itself.
It refers to the four winds from classical tradition — north, south, east, and west — each seen as a divine entity. Swinburne recognizes that all four winds play an important role in the world, but he argues that the south-wester is the one the sea needs most at this moment.
Yes, quite openly. Swinburne refers to the storm-wind as a 'lordlier lover' of the sea, using terms like 'amorous,' 'kindle,' and 'passion' to illustrate the connection between wind and waves. The sea is portrayed as feminine, the wind as masculine, with the storm representing a form of consummation. This erotic interpretation of nature was typical of Swinburne and contributed to the shock his work delivered to Victorian readers.
Samphire is a plant found on sea-cliffs and coastal banks, usually displaying a reddish or golden hue. Swinburne incorporates it as a carefully observed detail — 'banded broad with ruddy samphire glow the sea-banks narrowing westward' — anchoring the poem in a tangible, specific coastline before the sea transforms back into something more abstract and mythological.
The poem consists of long four-line stanzas that follow an ABAB rhyme scheme. Each line is notably lengthy, creating a rhythm that feels anapestic or dactylic, which contributes to the poem's flowing, wave-like quality. Swinburne, skilled in meter, intentionally crafted these long lines to evoke the physical sensation of the ocean he portrays.
No — and that adds to the poem's emotional tension. The speaker is still pleading at the end, asking the wind to 'turn thee then.' The south-wester hasn’t arrived; the poem concludes with a sense of anticipation rather than resolution. The last image of foam 'laughing and leaping' is imagined rather than seen, which amplifies the longing.