Oh, tell me, ye breezes that spring from the west, <br />Oh, tell me, ere passing away, <br />If Leichhardt’s bold spirit has fled to its rest? <br />Where moulders the traveller’s clay? <br />Perchance as ye flitted on heedlessly by <br />The long lost was yielding his breath; <br />Perchance ye have borne on your wings the last sigh <br />That ’scap’d from the lone one in death. <br /> <br />Tell me, ye breezes, ye’ve traversed the wild, <br />And passed o’er the desolate spot, <br />Where reposeth in silence sweet Nature’s own child, <br />Where slumbers one nearly forgot? <br /> <br />Ye answer me not but are passing away— <br />Ye breezes that spring from the west, <br />Unhallow’d still moulders the traveller’s clay, <br />For unknown is the place of his rest.<br /><br />Henry Kendall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/oh-tell-me-ye-breezes/
