Littell's Living Age/Volume 148/Issue 1918/Wind Fantasies

O wild and woeful wind! Cease for one moment thy complaining dreary, And tell me if thou art not sad and weary, And if thy travel is not long and eerie, - O wild and woeful wind!

O houseless, homeless wind! It wrings my heart to hear thy sad lamenting; Hast thou a wound whose pain knows no relenting, Canst never lay thy burden by repenting? -    O houseless, homeless wind!

O sad and mournful wind! From what wild depths of human pain and sorrow Could'st thou those tones of restless anguish borrow, As of a soul that dreams of no to-morrow? -    O sad and mournful wind!

O solitary wind! We know not whence thou com'st or whither goest, When round our homes thy wizard blast thou blowest, No home, nor shelter, thou, poor pilgrim, knowest, - O solitary wind!

Most melancholy wind! Is thine a requiem o'er the dead and dying, Or art thou some despairing spirit sighing O'er a lost Paradise behind thee lying? -    Most melancholy wind!

Tell me - I long to know - Art thou a wild and weary penance doing, Thro' the lone wilderness thy way pursuing, Chased by the secret of thine own undoing? -    Tell me; I long to know.

Hast thou no other voice, No words to whisper thy most grievous story, Where thou did'st lose thine ancient crown of glory, Ere thou wert banished to these deserts hoary? -    Hast thou no other voice?

O, thou art fierce and wild! Thy nightly chariot through the black skies lashing, The cloud-shapes round the mountain summits dashing, The waves of ocean round the wrecked bark crashing, - O, thou art fierce and wild!

Yet, art thou full of woe. Perchance, thou wert earth's angel, when was lighted Sin's lurid torch, and all her bowers were blighted, Thy poor heart by that awful shock benighted, - Thou art so full of woe.

Hast thou no hope, no hope? That thy poor, weary pinion thou art flinging Against the star-paved floor, with echoes ringing Of angel footsteps and their anthem singing, - Hast thou no hope, no hope?

And hast thou never heard That sin's wild torch is quenched in blood atoning, - And that in days to come creation's groaning Will cease, and rapture fill the place of moaning, - O, hast thou never heard?

But thou wilt one day hear! For heaven and earth will stand in silent wonder, When love unites what sin hath rent asunder, Proclaiming victory in music-thunder, - And thou wilt that day hear.

In Heaven will all be joy, And there thy wailing, too, will cease forever, And thou, perchance, wilt float o'er life's full river, And join the melody that ceaseth never, - In Heaven, where all is joy!