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Poem by 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 horseТs 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.

Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Ella Wheeler Wilcox's other poems:
  1. The Birth of the Opal
  2. At Forty-Eight
  3. Artist and Man
  4. As by Fire
  5. But a Dream

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