The wind of death, that softly blows 
The last warm petal from the rose, 
The last dry leaf from off the tree, 
To-night has come to breathe on me. 
There was a time I learned to hate
As weaker mortals learn to love; 
The passion held me fixed as fate, 
Burned in my veins early and late;
But now a wind falls from above 
The wind of death, that silently 
Enshroudeth friend and enemy. 
There was a time my soul was thrilled
By keen ambition's whip and spur; 
My master forced me where he willed, 
And with his power my life was filled;
But now the old-time pulses stir 
How faintly in the wind of death, 
That bloweth lightly as a breath. 
And once, but once, at Love's dear feet
I yielded strength and life and heart; 
His look turned bitter into sweet, 
His smile made all the world complete;
The wind blows loves like leaves apart 
The wind of death, that tenderly 
Is blowing 'twixt my love and me. 
O wind of death, that darkly blows 
Each separate ship of human woes 
Far out on a mysterious sea, 
I turn, I turn my face to thee!
The Wind of Death
written byEthelwyn Wetherald
© Ethelwyn Wetherald


 



