WIND

WIND

The Wind bows down the poplar trees,The Wind bows down the crested seas;And he has bowed the heart of meUnder his hand of memory.O heavy-handed Wind, who goesHurting the petals of the rose;Who leaves the grasses on the hillBroken and pallid, spent and still!O heavy-handed Wind, who bringsTo me all echoing ancient things:Echoing sorrow and defeat,Crying like mourners, hard to meet!The Wind bows down the poplar treesAnd all the ocean’s argosies;But deeper bends the heart of me,Under his hand of memory.Harper’sFannie Stearns Davis

The Wind bows down the poplar trees,The Wind bows down the crested seas;And he has bowed the heart of meUnder his hand of memory.O heavy-handed Wind, who goesHurting the petals of the rose;Who leaves the grasses on the hillBroken and pallid, spent and still!O heavy-handed Wind, who bringsTo me all echoing ancient things:Echoing sorrow and defeat,Crying like mourners, hard to meet!The Wind bows down the poplar treesAnd all the ocean’s argosies;But deeper bends the heart of me,Under his hand of memory.Harper’sFannie Stearns Davis

The Wind bows down the poplar trees,The Wind bows down the crested seas;And he has bowed the heart of meUnder his hand of memory.

The Wind bows down the poplar trees,

The Wind bows down the crested seas;

And he has bowed the heart of me

Under his hand of memory.

O heavy-handed Wind, who goesHurting the petals of the rose;Who leaves the grasses on the hillBroken and pallid, spent and still!

O heavy-handed Wind, who goes

Hurting the petals of the rose;

Who leaves the grasses on the hill

Broken and pallid, spent and still!

O heavy-handed Wind, who bringsTo me all echoing ancient things:Echoing sorrow and defeat,Crying like mourners, hard to meet!

O heavy-handed Wind, who brings

To me all echoing ancient things:

Echoing sorrow and defeat,

Crying like mourners, hard to meet!

The Wind bows down the poplar treesAnd all the ocean’s argosies;But deeper bends the heart of me,Under his hand of memory.

The Wind bows down the poplar trees

And all the ocean’s argosies;

But deeper bends the heart of me,

Under his hand of memory.

Harper’sFannie Stearns Davis


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