THE WIND


[Illustration]

"Hark to the voice of the wind!" we say, as the windows rattle and house
shakes; the winds as they shout in angry voices, clamoring louder in
their fury, are telling of storms at sea, of the battles with the ships
and the brave hearts that have gone to their death.

"It has been on the desolate ocean
When the lightening struck the mast;
It has heard the cry of the drowning,
Who sank as they hurried past.
The words of despair and anguish
That were heard by no living ear;
The gun that no signal answered--
It brings them all to us here.
Hark to the voice of the wind!"

It shakes angrily the trees whose limbs are swaying in protest against
the onslaught; it carries the leaves rustling to the ground, and in its
fury uproots the giant oaks, which groan in agony as they are hurled to
the ground, lying like soldiers on the field of battle.

"Hark to the voice of the wind!"

Its fury is abated, and softly, like a benediction it enters the room
where the weary mother is watching by the bedside of her sick child; it