What the Wind Sang.
216
Oh, hear ye how the night-wind wails,
All through the streaming dark?
It whirls a white dust thro' the air,
The ashes of a spark.
Oh, hear ye how the night-wind wails
In anguish scarce suppressed?
A soul is rocking on its wings
And cannot, cannot rest.
All through the streaming dark?
It whirls a white dust thro' the air,
The ashes of a spark.
Oh, hear ye how the night-wind wails
In anguish scarce suppressed?
A soul is rocking on its wings
And cannot, cannot rest.
Love's Challenge.
The tightening of a saddle-girth,
The buttoning of a glove;
Now who could think such trifles worth
The passion touch of love?
The buttoning of a glove;
Now who could think such trifles worth
The passion touch of love?
Saltbush on the windy plain,
The clink of iron hoofs,
Fictitious airs of sweet disdain,
Half-serious reproofs—
The clink of iron hoofs,
Fictitious airs of sweet disdain,
Half-serious reproofs—
