lorn

The sound of the wind,
And it dances again.
The murmur that springs,
Is the music of things.

Oh, take me away,
Beneath the moon’s ray,
Where wildflowers are seeking,
And shadows are sneaking.

I felt so lonely and in pain,
My breath, my senses, all in chain.
When the night had thrown her pall,
Upon that spot, upon us all.
When the night had thrown her pall,
Upon that spot, upon us all,
Then the mystic wind went by.
In the old days, it was my lot,
To haunt a wide world’s lonely spot,
Which I could not love the less,
So lovely was the loneliness.