 | Lays of Leisure Hours |  |
88
TO THE WIND.
Wind that sweep'st 'mongst leaves and boughs,How the heart thy power avows,
Thou appear'st with them at play;
But the triumphs of thy sway
Are o'er the throbbing human heart,
Where deep thoughts come, dwell, depart,
As thou rushest on thy path,
Now in glee and now in wrath,
As thou deepenest now—now diest,
As thou shoutest now—now sighest,
What, Oh! Wind! can be thy spell
The quick heart to stir or quell?
Oh! the spell is all its own,
'Tis influenced by itself alone.
89
To mould all Nature to its dreams!
Evermore at watch within
Its own deep shrine, for things akin
To its own feelings, or its fate,
Which 'twill discover or create!
All things doth it thus convert
(The deep mysterious Human Heart)
To its own tone and temper still—
And to its own strong voice doth thrill!
Wind—thou takest from thence thy power
To move it in some thoughtful hour.
Thence, wild Wind, and only thence,
Dost thou win thine Influence!
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