The winds have grown articulate in thee, And voiced again the wail of ancient woe That smote upon the winds of long ago: The cries of Trojan women as they flee, The quivering moan of pale Andromache, Now lifted loud with pain and now brought low. It is the soul of sorrow that we know, As in a shell the soul of all the sea. So sometimes in the compass of a song, Unknown to him who sings, thro' lips that live, The voiceless dead of long-forgotten lands Proclaim to us their heaviness and wrong In sweeping sadness of the winds that give Thy strings no rest from weariless wild hands. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO LEIGH HUNT, ESQ. by JOHN KEATS SHILOH; A REQUIEM by HERMAN MELVILLE TANGLED TRAILS by GLADYS NAOMI ARNOLD THE LAST MAN: SWEET TO DIE by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES PARODY OF A SHROPSHIRE LAD by HENRY MAXIMILIAN BEERBOHM MUNUSCULUM by WHEATON H. BREWER |