THE SONGS OF THE WJND. 



O listen to the battle-song of the wind, 



In the wild of a winter night, 

 When the shutters bang and the treetops bend, 



And the mock-bird's hushed in fright; 

 For he's a pirate black, and a pirate bold, 



And a spirit wild and free — 

 A heartless knave for the hoarded gold 

 Of the ragged forestry. 



O listen to the wooing-song of the wind, 



In the ear of the meek-eyed May, 

 When the violets bloom and the roses blush, 



And the wood-nymphs join in play; 

 For he's a lover mild and a lover true — 



An Apollo Belvidere — 

 The gentlest knight beneath the blue, 

 A wandering "Beaucaire." 



O listen to the sleepy-song of the wind, 



In the time of the sweltering heat, 

 When the daisies shy and the marigolds 



Hide in the waving wheat; 

 For he's a lazy man and man of rest — 



A gentleman of ease — 

 A loiterer, without zeal or zest, 

 Just living in the trees. 



O listen to the crooning-song of the wind, 



In the time of the dreary fall, 

 When the sere-brown leaves and the sad-voiced streams 



Give heed to the death-day's call ; 

 For he's a mourner slow and a mourner sad ; 



And a sympathizer deep, 

 Whose fickle heart isn't wholly bad, 



Since he weeps with those who weep. 



John Jordan Douglass. 



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