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Note contribution of Robert Gordon Menzies: “Nocturne” [pp. 53 – 54]: When nights are dark, and through the trees a-sighing
The Wind comes murm’ring at the window pane,
I catch the sound of echoing, far-off voices,
And fancy weaves old scenes for me again.

Perchance my mind attunes itself to sorrow,
And then it is I stand upon the shore,
And hear the plaintive music of the surges,
And the great ocean’s sadness in its roar.

But often, in the midnight’s solemn stillness,
Whispers the wind another song to me,
A song with words that tell of field and river,
And the soft lilt of woodland melody.

Then, then it is, I seem to see the sunset,
And the last golden kiss upon the trees,
And the tall reeds’ sharp black against the glory,
And the bright waters rippled by the breeze.

And then daylight fades and the night shadows,
Creep o’er the darkened river like a pall;
The phantom shapes tell ear their message to me –
Some mystic spirts holds me in its thrall.

So in the night, when all the trees are sighing
Murmurs the wind, and gently speaks to me,
And borne afar amid the great world’s wonders,
I feel its glamour and its mystery.