Page:Poems Storrie.djvu/244

The wind, the wind! it knoweth all,
 As round the world it rolls;
We, too, shall tread, some happy day.
 The thoroughfare of souls.

Love's Illusions.

I know a creek, a little creek
 Hid in a hill's embraces,
Where they who still for Beauty seek
 May find her lingering traces.
The willows, with long tresses bent,
 Shadow the water over;
The air has caught a mystic scent—
 Well, yes! perhaps it's clover!

I know a beach, a little beach
 Of snowy sand, bespangled
With jewels, quaintly carven; each
 In strange sea-growths entangled;