Poems (Procter)/The Voice of the Wind

by Adelaide Anne Procter

For works with similar titles, see The Voice of the Wind.

THE VOICE OF THE WIND.

ET us throw more logs on the fire! We have need of a cheerful light,And close round the hearth to gather For the wind has risen to-night.With the mournful sound of its wailing It has checked the children's glee,And it calls with a louder clamor Than the clamor of the sea.    Hark to the voice of the wind!

Let us listen to what it is saying, Let us hearken to where it has been;For it tells, in its terrible crying, The fearful sights it has seen.It clatters loud at the casements, Round the house it hurries on,And shrieks with redoubled fury When we say, "The blast is gone!"    Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has been on the field of battle, Where the dying and wounded lie;And it brings the last groan they uttered, And the ravenous vulture's cry.It has been where the icebergs were meeting, And closed with a fearful crash:On shores where no foot has wandered It has heard the waters dash.    Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has been on the desolate ocean When the lightning struck the mast;It has heard the cry of the drowning Who sank as it hurried past;The words of despair and anguish That were heard by no living ear,The gun that no signal answered, It brings them all to us here.    Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has been on the lonely moorland, Where the treacherous snow-drift lies,Where the traveller, spent and weary, Gasped fainter and fainter cries;It has heard the bay of the bloodhounds On the track of the hunted slave,The lash and the curse of the master, And the groan that the captive gave.    Hark to the voice of the wind!

It has swept through the gloomy forest, Where the sledge was urged to its speed;Where the howling wolves were rushing On the track of the panting steed.Where the pool was black and lonely, I caught up a splash and a cry,—Only he bleak sky heard it, And the wind as it hurried by.    Hark to the voice of the wind!

Then throw more logs on the fire, Since the air is bleak and cold,And the children are drawing nigher, For the tales that the wind has told. So closer and closer gather Round the red and crackling light;And rejoice (while the wind is blowing) We are safe and warm to-night.    Hark to the voice of the wind!