IX.
Often have I sung this story,
When at midnight’s solemn reign;
Like a ghost or howling demon
Will I sing it oft again.
I have lived through all the ages,
And will live for many more,
Blowing by the stormy ocean,
On the sea and on the shore.
On the shore or on the ocean—
Still a jolly friend am I,
Ne’er deserting, always constant,
As my zephyrs gently fly.
You will find me in the future
Just as I have always been—
Free from all unjust transgressions—
Free from any kind of sin.
Often do I waft the odors
From the fields of clover sweet;
When with breath of sweetest perfume,
Do I all the woodlands greet.
X.
So good-bye; I must be speeding—
Stirring up the Autumn leaves;
I must visit now the farmer
As he binds his golden sheaves.
I must visit now the smithy
And his anvil ringing clear,—
Even now his clanking irons
Do I faintly seem to hear.