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._