Page:National Lyrics.pdf/141

Rh

No, no! the strange sweet accents That with it come and go, They are not from the osiers, Nor the fir-trees whispering low.

They are not of the waters, 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!