Classic Poem

The wind is just a far-off voice
Beyond the pale-blue bound of sky;
Too weak to murmur or rejoice,
I watch the moments drifting by.
So large the world; and ah, so chill
The great pale sky, the shining snow;
The lonely wind is calling still,
With a voice like human woe.

Now all my high ambitions fade;
The things I hoped for seem so far;
From work once loved I shrink, afraid
Lest some mistake that work should mar;
And all my longings turn to this:
To hold my Mother's hand, to know
The rest of Home, the smile, the kiss,—
And let the great world go!