Vii

Wind of the driven snow, Wind of the sea, On a long trail and slow Farers are we.

Wind of the Northern gloom, Wind of the sea, Shall I one day resume His love for me?

Wind of the driven snow, Wind of the sea, Then shall thy vagrant know How these things be.

These are the seven wind songs For Andrew Straton’s rest, From the hills of the Scarlet Hunter And the trail of the endless quest.

The wells of the sunrise harken, They wait for a year and a day: Only the calm sure thrushes Fluting the world away!

For the husk of life is sorrow; But the kernels of joy remain, Teeming and blind and eternal As the hill wind or the rain.