Verse > Anthologies > Harriet Monroe, ed. > Poetry: A Magazine of Verse, 1912–22
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Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936).  Poetry: A Magazine of Verse.  1912–22.
 
The Minstrel
By Ida Judith Johnson
 
    “WOE……!”
    My Lord Wind sings.
  His voice is a harp, a harp of a thousand strings;
His voice is a harp, and he rides on swift and terrible wings.
 
    “Woe……!”        5
    My Lord Wind shrills;
  And the pine-trees mutter threats to their parent hills,
The ragged scrub-oaks writhe and clash at fierce demoniac wills.
 
    “Woe……!”
    My Lord Wind rails;        10
  And the young oak bends to the hiss of his stinging flails,
While the old oak breaks and the cowering pine-tree wails.
 
    “Woe……!”
    My Lord Wind grieves;
  And a plaintive echo stirs through the fallen leaves,        15
Like a child-lorn mother’s breast the grassy hill-side heaves.
 
    “Woe……!”
    My Lord Wind cries,
  And the word is a mad crescendo of sobs and sighs.
Then out in the far somewhere the voice of my Lord Wind dies.        20
 
 
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