Six Sets of Five Songs Each for Voice and Pianoforte, Set III , opus 74

I hear the little children of the wind
Crying solitary in lonely places:
I have not seen their faces
But I have seen the leaves eddying behind,
The little tremulous leaves of the wind.

When the day darkens,
When dusk grows light,
When the dew is falling,
When Silence dreams....
I hear a wind
Calling, calling
By day and by night.
What is the wind
That I hear calling
By day and by night,
The crying of wind?
When the day darkens,
When dusk grows light,
When the dew is falling?

In the secret Valley of Silence
No breath doth fall;
No wind stirs in the branches;
No bird doth call:
As on a white wall
A breathless lizard is still,
So silence lies on the valley
Breathlessly still.
In the dusk-grown heart of the valley
An altar rises white:
No rapt priest bends in awe
Before its silent light:
But sometimes a flight
Of breathless words of prayer
White-wing'd enclose the altar,
Eddies of prayer.

O would I were the cool wind that's blowing from the sea,
Each loneliest valley I would search till I should come to thee.
In the dew on the grass is your name, dear, i' the leaf on the tree -- 
O would I were the cool wind that's blowing from the sea.
O would I were the cool wind that's blowing far from me -- 
The grey silence, the grey waves, the grey wastes of the sea.

O wind, why break in idle pain
This wave that swept the seas
Foam is the meed of barren dreams
And hearts that cry for peace!

Lift then, O wind, this heart of mine,
And whirl aside in foam;
No -- wander on, unchanging heart,
The undrowning deeps thy home!

Less than a billow of the sea
That at the last doth no more roam,
Less than a wave, less than a wave,
This thing that hath no home,
This thing that hath no grave.