The Wind - part two

Oh hind'ring wind, my way you slow;
The papers off my desk do blow.
The leaves from off my trees you tear,
And then you leave without a care.

Oh awful wind, the storm you bring;
With raindrops soak, with hail sting.
The birds you drive out of the sky.
The fragile land you set awry.

Oh horrid wind of days of old;
Thou courier of sleet and cold.
Through flesh and bones you drive the chill.
I plead that thou would now be still.

Oh vicious wind, at breakneck speed
To lands and homes you give no heed.
And when you're done, a ruin leave,
That we alone and homeless grieve.