The poem
The wind blew all my wedding-day, And my wedding-night was the night of the high wind; And a stable door was banging, again and again, That he must go and shut it, leaving me Stupid in candlelight, hearing rain, Seeing my face in the twisted candlestick, Yet seeing nothing. When he came back He said the horses were restless, and I was sad That any man or beast that night should lack The happiness I had.
Now in the day All's ravelled under the sun by the wind's blowing. He has gone to look at the floods, and I Carry a chipped pail to the chicken-run, Set it down, and stare. All is the wind Hunting through clouds and forests, thrashing My apron and the hanging cloths on the line. Can it be borne, this bodying-forth by wind Of joy my actions turn on, like a thread Carrying beads? Shall I be let to sleep Now this perpetual morning shares my bed? Can even death dry up These new delighted lakes, conclude Our kneeling as cattle by all-generous waters?
uncertainty
I thought this poem was about the contrast between the intimacy and closeness of the night followed by the stark reality awkwardenss and distance of the day, when she is already attending to mundane chores that mark her future life and her new husband is away doing his. Reading again I'm not so sure. Perhaps Larkin intends us, the readers to make that conclusion whereas the speaker is still in the throes of simple happiness and blissfully unaware of the drudgery and routine left when passion is replaced by reality. Either way it is such a sad poem, the way the wind seems ready to blow her fragile hopes and dreams away.