001. "The North Wind", p. 1

     The North Wind —

   ––––––––
That wind is from the North I know it well.
No other breeze could have so wild a swell.
Now deep and loud it thunders round my cell,
    Then faintly dies,
    And softly sighs,
And moans and murmers mournfully
I know its language thus it speaks to me —

“I have passed over thy own mountains dear,
Thy northern mountains – and they still are free,
Still lonely, wild, majestic, bleak, and drear,
And stern, and lovely, as they used to be

“When thou a young enthusiast,
As wild and free as they,
O’er rocks and glens and snowy heights
Didst often love to stray.