Josephine Preston Peabody

Wind

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.