From: The Dial, Vol. I, No. IV (April 1841).
Author:
Published: Weeks Jordan and Company 1841 Boston
So wistfully the wind doth moan,— Swiftly, swiftly the wind is blowing,THE WIND AGAIN.
What does it want of me?
It sweeps round the house with mournful tone,
As if it fain would flee
From its wide wanderings sad and lone;—
Come, woful wind—I will love thee!
Wild wandering wind, where art thou going?
I know not where,
I go on forever,
I’ve no toil or care,
Yet rest I never.
Ah woful wind! thou art like me,
Dost thou not strive from thyself to flee?
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