Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Harp of Renfrewshire

345
I've listen'cl to the midnight wind,
And wept for others' woe ;
Nor could the heart such music find
To bid its tear-drops flow.
The melting voice of one we loved,
Whose voice was heard no more,
Seem'd, when those fancied chords were moved,
Still breathing as before.
I've listen'd to the midnight wind,
And sat beside the dead,
And felt those movings of the mind
Which own a secret dread.
The ticking clock, which told the hour.
Had then a sadder chime ;
And these winds seem'd an unseen pow'r,
Which sung the dirge of time.
I've listen'd to the midnight wind,
When, o'er the new-made grave
Of one whose heart was true and kind,
Its rudest blasts did rave.
Oh ! there was something in the sound —
A mournful, melting tone —
Which led the thoughts to that dark ground
Where he was left alone.
I've listen'd to the midnight wind,
And courted sleei^ in vain,
While thoughts like these have oft combined
To rack the wearied brain.
And even when slumber, soft and deep,
Has seen the eyelid close.
The restless soul, which cannot sleep,
Has stray'd till morning rose.