 | The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman |  |
VOICE OF THE WESTERN WIND
Voice of the western wind!
Thou singest from afar,
Rich with the music of a land
Where all my memories are;
But in thy song I only hear
The echo of a tone
That fell divinely on my ear
In days forever flown.
Thou singest from afar,
Rich with the music of a land
Where all my memories are;
But in thy song I only hear
The echo of a tone
That fell divinely on my ear
In days forever flown.
Star of the western sky!
Thou beamest from afar,
With lustre caught from eyes I knew,
Whose orbs were each a star;
But, oh, those orbs—too wildly bright—
No more eclipse thine own,
And never shall I find the light
Of days forever flown!
Thou beamest from afar,
With lustre caught from eyes I knew,
Whose orbs were each a star;
363
No more eclipse thine own,
And never shall I find the light
Of days forever flown!
| The poems of Edmund Clarence Stedman | |