Sagas of Vaster Britain: Poems of the Race, the Empire and the Divinity of Man

by William Wilfred Campbell


 

HOW LONESOME THE SOUND OF THE WIND IN THE EAR OF THE DAY


 

HOW lonesome the sound of the wind
   In the ear of the day,
As it beats in the heart’s troubled chambers,
   Repeating for aye
The sad low dreams of the past
5
   And its memories grey:—
How lonesome the sound of the wind
   In the ear of the day.

How lonesome the voice of the wind
   In the ear of the night,

10
Under the eaves of the casement,
   Sobbing so light—
With the ghosts of the years that are dead,
   In the pale moonlight:
Those memories ghostly and grey,
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   O they tap at the windows of Thought,
And they stay, and they stay:
   And they whisper and linger, and stay!