Classic Poem

The dark Spring storm swept up
From some forgotten shore,
The rain beat on my window
The same tune o'er and o'er,
And the wind, the maker of poets,
Sobbed at my door.

‘Give me thy heart,’ he cried,
‘To blow from sea to sea,
To fill with lonely fear,
To taunt with bitter glee;
Give me thy heart; I'll give
My song to thee.’

Now nay, but Love forbid!
What comes my heart must bear,
But forth on sorrow's trail
In truth it shall not fare,
Nor would I learn the song
Hope may not share.

But all night long the wind
Sobbed, and would not forget
Its burden of by-gone years,
Sadness, and vain regret,—
O longing heart, what goal
For thee is set?