THE Wind, the wandering Wind Of the golden summer eves -- Whence is the thrilling magic Of its tones among the leaves? Oh! is it from the waters, Or from the long tall grass? Or is it from the hollow rocks Through which its breathings pass? Or is it from the voices Of all in one combined That it wins the tone of mastery? The Wind, the wandering Wind! No, no! the strange, sweet accents That with it come and go, They are not from the osiers, Nor the fir-trees whispering low; They are not of the waters, Nor of the caverned hill: 'Tis the human love within us That gives them power to thrill. They touch the links of memory Around our spirits twined, And we start, and weep, and tremble, To the Wind, the wandering Wind! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BALLAD OF THE LORDS OF OLD TIME by FRANCOIS VILLON BLIZZARD by WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS TO SPAIN - A LAST WORD by EDITH MATILDA THOMAS ONLY A BABY SMALL by MATTHIAS BARR TO ONE BEREFT by ETHEL KNAPP BEHRMAN |