Edmund Clarence Stedman, ed. (1833–1908). A Victorian Anthology, 1837–1895. 1895.

Charles Mackay 1814–89

Tell Me, Ye Winged Winds

TELL me, ye winged winds,

That round my pathway roar,

Do ye not know some spot

Where mortals weep no more?

Some lone and pleasant dell,

Some valley in the west,

Where, free from toil and pain,

The weary soul may rest?

The loud wind dwindled to a whisper low,

And sigh’d for pity as it answer’d, “No.”

Tell me, thou mighty deep,

Whose billows round me play,

Knowst thou some favor’d spot,

Some island far away,

Where weary man may find

The bliss for which he sighs,

Where sorrow never lives,

And friendship never dies?

The loud waves, rolling in perpetual flow,

Stopp’d for a while, and sigh’d to answer, “No.”

And thou, serenest moon,

That, with such lovely face,

Dost look upon the earth

Asleep in night’s embrace;

Tell me, in all thy round

Hast thou not seen some spot

Where miserable man

May find a happier lot?

Behind a cloud the moon withdrew in woe,

And a voice, sweet but sad, responded, “No.”

Tell me, my secret soul,

Oh! tell me, Hope and Faith,

Is there no resting-place

From sorrow, sin, and death?

Is there no happy spot

Where mortals may be blest,

Where grief may find a balm,

And weariness a rest?

Faith, Hope, and Love, best boons to mortals given,

Wav’d their bright wings, and whisper’d, “Yes, in heaven.”