I know thee, O thou wailing wind! Thou comest from the summer's tomb, Regretting what is left behind, The glory dimmed, the lost perfume. Could I remember, wailing wind, As thou rememberest, I could weep, And weeping thus I should unbind The dead from their eternal sleep. But still they sleep, remorseful wind, They moulder passive, cold and mute; Wayfaring thoughts and passions blind Pass by and tread them under foot. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE DEATH OF A PHOTOGRAPHER by KAREN SWENSON ARCTURUS IN AUTUMN by SARA TEASDALE SONNETS FROM THE PORTUGUESE: 26 by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE MEANING OF THE LOOK by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING FIVE SOULS by WILLIAM NORMAN EWER GOD'S DETERMINATIONS: THE PREFACE by EDWARD TAYLOR |