THE WIND’S GRIEF
Reading edition
The wind is grieving. Over what old woe Howls it as though Its very heart would break?— The roving wind who merrily did make A song all day in woods and meadows gay Grieves in the night. Is it for olden evil it hath done ’Neath moon and sun Since first it roved the world? Brave trees uprooted, ships and sailors hurled To stormy death? or for the passing breath Of flowers bright?