Who Is It That Answers?

By John Frederick Freeman

The clouds no more are flocking After the flushing sun; Bees end their long droning, The bat's hunt is begun; And the tired wind that went flittering Up and down the hill Lies like a shadow still, Like a shadow still. Who is it that's calling Out of the deepening dark, Calling, calling, calling?-- No!--yet hark! The sleepy wind wakes, carrying Up and down the hill A voice how small and still, How sweet and still! Who is it that answers Out of a quiet cloud-- "Stay, oh stay! I come, I come!" Cried at last aloud? My voice, my heart went answering Up and down the hill-- Mine so strange and still, Mine grave and still.