Page:Felicia Hemans in The Court Magazine Volume III 1833.pdf/5



wind, the wandering wind Of 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, Or the fir-trees, whispering low.

They are not of the river, 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!