THE SOUTH WIND’S SONG
Sweet and low, upon the wings of morn I come,
And bring to you fond mem’ries of the days gone by;
The fragrance of the rose, the drowsy bee’s low hum;
All these, and more, I weave for you in lullaby.
Upon the canvas stretched by the new-born sun
I paint quaint scenes of times both sad and gay;
Of dreary days, misspent when scarce begun;
Of happier times and scenes I sing my lay.
Soft and sweet and low, I sing my lullaby,
Soothing the tired soul to slumber and repose;
And bring to it, ’mid sounds of rarest melody,
The peace of mind, the calm, that waking, no one knows.
Susie Cornelia Connolly.
