From the Rapidan--1864.
Reading edition
A low wind in the pines! And a dull pain in the breast! And oh! for the sigh of her lips and eyes-- One touch of the hand I pressed!
The slow, sad lowland wind, It sighs through the livelong day, While the splendid mountain breezes blow, And the autumn is burning away.
Here the pines sigh ever above, And the broomstraw sighs below; And far from the bare, bleak, windy fields Comes the note of the drowsy crow.
There the trees are crimson and gold, Like the tints of a magical dawn, And the slender form, in the dreamy days, By the slow stream rambles on.
Oh, day that weighs on the heart! Oh, wind in the dreary pines! Does she think on me 'mid the golden hours, Past the mountain's long blue lines?
The old house, lonely and still, By the sad Shenandoah's waves, Must be touched to-day by the sunshine's gleam, As the spring flowers bloom on graves.
Oh, sunshine, flitting and sad, Oh, wind, that forever sighs! The hall may be bright, but my life is dark For the sunshine of her eyes!