_The Wind Blows Out Of The Gates Of The Day._[A]

FLORENCE FARR.

The wind blows out of the gates of the day, The wind blows over the lonely of heart, And the lonely of heart is withered away, While the fairies dance in a place apart, Shaking their milkwhite feet in a ring, Tossing their milkwhite arms in the air For they hear the wind laugh and murmur and sing Of a land where even the old are fair And even the wise are merry of tongue. But I heard a reed of Coolaney say, When the wind has laughed and murmured and sung, The lovely of heart must wither away.