Sing me a song, O, Wind,
Of flowers that are fond and fair,
Filling the fields of earth
With beauty and fragrance rare;
Wafting an incense pure
On every breeze that blows,
Drawn from the lily's heart
And soul of the royal rose.
Sing me a song, O, Wind,
Of man in his brightest homes;
Tell if he there meet joy,
Wherever his longing roams;
Tell if there's e'er a place
Where, all his ambition spent,
He toils throughout all his days
And knoweth no discontent.
Sing me a song, O, Wind,
For I am a-weary now;
Life, with its woes and cares,
Hangs heavily on my brow;
Sing me a song of cheer,
My heart that is sad to ease;
Sing in thy brightness and joy
With heavenly harmonies!
A CHRISTMAS CAROL.
The brazen bells of laughing lands
In swelling echoes wildly ring,
And over seas and hoary strands
This Christmas carol sing.
"Awaken, O, heart of the race,
To bountiful riches from Eden above,
Till roses of beauty and lilies of grace
Shall sweeten the languishing bosom with love;
Till virulent sorrow and venomous hate
Their poisonous curses of misery cease,
And rapturous fortune, felicitous fate,
Have rule in the musical meadows of peace.
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