Read "To an Aeolian Harp" by Sara Teasdale online for free on Textopian. Full text with search, annotations, highlights, and AI-powered reading aids.
The winds have grown articulate in thee, / And voiced again the wail of ancient woe / That smote upon the winds of long ago: / The cries of Trojan women as they flee, / The quivering moan of pale Andromache, / Now lifted loud with pain and now brought low. / It is the soul of sorrow that we know, / As in a shell the soul of all the sea. / So sometimes in the compass of a song, / Unknown to him who sings, thro' lips that live, / The voiceless dead of long-forgotten lands / Proclaim to us their heaviness and wrong / In sweeping sadness of the winds that give / Thy strings no rest from weariless wild hands.