"But Hannah had no children * * *
therefore she wept and did not eat."
Wind of the night, it is almost dawning,
I bid thee peace, the stars are waning,
The moon sinks red and lone!
I hear a lost soul in thy fitful moan,
Pleading for rest.
Must I give comfort who am comfortless?
Wind of the night, what soft tone in thy sighing
Reminds me of the child that never came?
And on me rests the world's unthinking blame
That it is not.
Night wind, who hast known my inmost thought,
Bear witness how I craved with all my soul,
With all the ancient instincts of the race,
Wrapped up in Being, purposeful but blind
As is thy force upon the silent rock,
O never silent, and far-searching wind.
Wind of the night, while the day is breaking
Bear thou my peace to sad hearts waking
The livelong night alone,
Weeping for children in thy plaintive moan
That are no more.
O night wind who art sworn by Heaven's name
Have I mourned less the child that never came?
