Every night I lie awake and listen
To creaky doors and squeaky floors
'' 'Tis only the weather'', the wind sighs -
'' 'Tis only me on the moors.''

Every night the old house shakes
As if a ghost had cursed the walls;
'' 'Tis only the hymn of winter'', the wind sighs -
'' 'Tis only me who always calls.''

Every night I open the window
To absorb the distant cries of night
'' 'Tis only the time of year'', the wind sighs -
'' 'Tis only me taking flight.''

Every morning I gently awaken
To feel a glistening sun on my cheek
'' 'Twas only the wind,'' I say,
'' 'Twas, and 'tis always the wind.''