Music, and Other Poems

THE WIND OF SORROW

     The fire of love was burning, yet so low
         That in the dark we scarce could see its rays,
         And in the light of perfect-placid days
     Nothing but smouldering embers dull and slow.
     Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw
       New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze:
       In life's calm air and tranquil-prosperous ways
     We missed the radiant heat of long ago.

     Then in the night, a night of sad alarms,
       Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears,
     That drove us trembling to each other's arms—
       Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears,
     Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came,
     And fanned the fire of love to clearest flame.

     March, 1903.