Ella Wheeler Wilcox

An East Wind

The glitter of wheels far down the street
   (Ah me, and alack a day.)
And I heard the thud of his horse’s feet
   Beating a roundelay.
And I felt a little song coming, coming
Over my lips as humming, humming,
   I turned my eyes that way.

Somebody passed, who was wont to pause:
   (Ah me, and alack a day.)
He bowed and smiled; yet for some cause
   The mirth went out of my lay.
A wind from the east rose, sighing, sighing,
I felt my little song dying, dying,
   She laughed as they rode away.