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On old Cape Cod

The Chant Of The Night Wind

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O the wind in the chimney place thrums a wild strain A chant that no mortal has known, And my soul deeply stirs at its eerie refrain In my dim lighted chamber, - alone. For strange lifting cadences mark its sweet song With gladness and beauty and fear, Till chords, long forgotten, in memory throng Like a shell that I press to my ear. O where have you wandered, melodious breeze That sounds such a magical note, Have you winged on your journey, o’er limitless seas From some Ultima Thule remote? A region no mortal may ever explore Whose legended boundaries lie On foam whitened beaches and sinister shore And crags that are gnashing the sky! Where ice fields aglow in the dark of the moon Reflect the volcano’s red glare - We may ponder and doubt - but our souls are in tune To the verve of that uncanny air! For the spirits of night strum their wild elfin lyres And they harp on invisible strings, While a music, unearthly, floats down from those wires Like the tremulous flutter of wings. For those notes so elusive, so mystically sweet, We may sense but their vague undertone, For they baffle our hearing, so faintly they beat On the verge of the audible zone. O restless and fitful, those wandering airs, As the sad breezes sigh to the rain, Then dying, evasively mock at our prayers, For silent, we hear them again! ’Tis the music of elfland that rings in our ears With its haunting notes witching and low, Like the voices of friends that have gone with the years Or the echoes of songs long ago.

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