Classic Poem

I LET them call it just The Wind ,
And tell me not to grieve.
But I know all it left behind,
And more than they believe.

I know; about the far-off lands,
Where people never sleep;
They hide their faces in their hands,
And rock, and weep, and weep.

And I too little, all alone,
To go and find them yet; —
But Oh, I hear! — When I am grown,
I never will forget.