Wake, rushing winds, awake! and, dark clouds, roll!
Wake, rise! the reed may bend,
The shivering leaf descend,
The forest branch give way before your might;
But I, your strong compeer,
Call, summon, wait you here—
Answer, my spirit!—answer, storm and night!
THE TWO VOICES.
Two solemn Voices, in a funeral strain,
Met as rich sunbeams and dark bursts of rain