Wind Song

Horn of the morning! And the little night pipings fail. The day is launched like a hollow ship With the sun for a sail. The way is wide and blue and lone With all the miles inviolate, Save for the swinging stars they’ve sown And a thistle of cloud remote and blown. O I passion for something nearer than these! How shall I know that this live thing is I With only the morning for proof and the sky? I long for a music more dear to its keys, For a touch that shall teach me the new sureties, Give me some griefs and some loyalties And a child’s mouth on my own....

Lullaby, Babe of the world, swing high, Swing low. I am a mother you never may know, But oh, And oh, how long the wind will know you, With lullaby for the dead night through. Babe of the earth, as I blow.... Swing high, To touch at the sky, And at last lie low. Lullaby....