Falling, falling-gently falling, <br />Pattering on the window pane, <br />Like a weird spirit calling <br />Come the heavy drops of rain. <br /> <br />Sweeping by the crazy casement, <br />Where the creeping ivy clings, <br />Sounds the wind in gustful musings <br />Loudly speaking bitter things. <br /> <br />Hush! the tones are sinking lower, <br />Sweetest strains of music roll; <br />Like Aeolian harps in Heaven, <br />Pouring incense o'er the soul. <br /> <br />But 'tis gone! a wilder wailing <br />Fills the air where music reigned, <br />Hoarsely groans the wild storm-demon, <br />Drowning all those sweeter strains. <br /> <br />And the tall pines shake and quiver <br />As the monarch rideth by; <br />Onward where the troubled river <br />Dashes spray-drops towards the sky. <br /> <br />But he pauses not to listen, <br />Onward with demoniac will; <br />Till Aeolian harps in Heaven <br />Softly whisper, 'Peace, be still.'<br /><br />Annie McCarer Darlington<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/murmurings/
