Richard Henry Stoddard

Uncertain Sounds

THE wind in the leaves,
The rain on the eaves,
Or the low, continuous roar
Of the rolling waves on the distant shore:
Who shall declare
What sounds they be?
Whether lost in the air,
Or found on the sea,
And whether they laugh, or sigh?
Not I.
I only know
That they come, and go,
And people the hollow sky.

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