The wind sang to itself last night
Whispering words only the pansies know
Singing in a half-whisper the trills of the thoughts of a lark.
The Moon in her gossamer nightgown heard it
The stars in mid-orbit of the midnight sky,
The crickets that cricked in the middle of nightsound
And in a small bedroom, so did I.

I went to the window and saw silvery
The fresh wind blowing towards the silvery sea
I heard it singing, it gave me heartsease
And with all the world set me at peace.

It sang through the trees, rustling the leaves,
It sang from the old church tower,
It sang o’er the stream- the loveliest sound!
It sang above the woodland bower.
And when its song was over and done
I stood there and watched the wind run,
“Over the hills and far away, beyond their utmost purple rim”
And the song of the wind was sung.