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 | The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich |  |
O autumn wind among the sombre pines,
Breathe you his dirge, but be it sweet and low,
With deep refrains and murmurs of the sea,
Like to his verse—the art is yours alone.
His once—you taught him. Now no voice but yours.
Tender and low, O wind among the pines!
Breathe you his dirge, but be it sweet and low,
With deep refrains and murmurs of the sea,
Like to his verse—the art is yours alone.
265
Tender and low, O wind among the pines!
| The poems of Thomas Bailey Aldrich | |