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 Average: 3 (2 votes) Rate Log in or register to post comments