Author Sara Teasdale A wind is blowing over my soul, I hear it cry the whole night through—Is there no peace for me on earth Except with you?Alas, the wind has made me wise, Over my naked soul it blew,—There is no peace for me on earth Even with you. Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments