1 To seize the Wind

The skies are washed a changeful blue;

The trees have donned a burning hue;

And rumor grows throughout the land

That 'far away' is near at hand.

The autumn winds are growing fast.

The autumn winds are sweeping past.

And won't you loose your hold, that I

Might seize the Wind, and fly at last?

At scabbard belted here, a sword

Has asked of me, indeed implored

In whispers that I must away;

And won't I ride ere break of day?

The autumn winds have not grown old.

The autumn winds are whistling cold.

And comfort's charm shan't stay the call

To make for mountains fierce and bold.

Hist! The winding Road has beckoned!

You, my love, can scarce have reckoned

That I so soon must fly, must fly.

Nay, do not hinder, do not cry!

The autumn winds have scored the sky.

The autumn winds are fair, are high.

And though you bid me stay behind,

My soul for journey still does vie.

I see a tear caught in your eye.

You think the Wind would let me die?

Love, set a watch! Abide the rain!

Spring will see me home again.