Often I've heard the Wind sigh By the ivied orchard wall, Over the leaves in the dark night, Breathe a sighing call, And faint away in the silence, While I, in my bed, Wondered, 'twixt dreaming and waking, What it said. Nobody knows what the Wind is, Under the height of the sky, Where the hosts of the stars keep far away house And its wave sweeps by -- Just a great wave of the air, Tossing the leaves in its sea, And foaming under the eaves of the roof That covers me. And so we live under deep water, All of us, beasts and men, And our bodies are buried down under the sand, When we go again; And leave, like the fishes, our shells, And float on the Wind and away, To where, o'er the marvellous tides of the air, Burns day. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO MR. THOMAS SOUTHERNE, ON HIS BIRTHDAY, 1742 by ALEXANDER POPE STANZAS COMPOSED AT CARNAC by MATTHEW ARNOLD THE INVITATION by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD FRAGMENTS INTENDED FOR DEATH'S JEST-BOOK: SORROW by THOMAS LOVELL BEDDOES ABER STATIONS: STATIO PRIMA by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: COUNT RINALDO RINALDI by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON HOME, SWEET HOME WITH VARIATIONS: 2. ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE by HENRY CUYLER BUNNER |