To The Summer Wind Poem by John Bannister Tabb
To The Summer Wind
Art thou the selfsame wind that blew
When I was but a boy?
Thy voice is like the voice I knew,
And yet the thrill of joy
Has softened to a sadder tone-
Perchance the echo of mine own.
Beside a sea of memories
In solitude I dwell:
Upon the shore forsaken lies
Alas! no murmuring shell!
Are all the voices lost to me
Still wandering the world with thee?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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7/28/2026 11:19:06 AM # rel_20260727T173023Z_37e450e
