XXXI

Wind, high-souled, full-hearted South-west wind of the spring! Ere April and earth had parted, Skies, bright with thy forward wing,

Grew dark in an hour with the shadow behind it, that bade not a bird dare sing. Wind whose feet are sunny, Wind whose wings are cloud, With lips more sweet than honey

Still, speak they low or loud, Rejoice now again in the strength of thine heart: let the depth of thy soul wax proud. We hear thee singing or sighing, Just not given to sight,

All but visibly flying Between the clouds and the light, And the light in our hearts is enkindled, the shadow therein of the clouds put to flight. From the gift of thine hands we gather

The core of the flowers therein, Keen glad heart of heather, Hot sweet heart of whin, Twin breaths in thy godlike breath close blended of wild spring's wildest of kin.

All but visibly beating We feel thy wings in the far Clear waste, and the plumes of them fleeting, Soft as swan's plumes are,

And strong as a wild swan's pinions, and swift as the flash of the flight of a star. As the flight of a planet enkindled Seems thy far soft flight Now May's reign has dwindled

And the crescent of June takes light And the presence of summer is here, and the hope of a welcomer presence in sight. Wind, sweet-souled, great-hearted Southwest wind on the wold!

From us is a glory departed That now shall return as of old, Borne back on thy wings as an eagle's expanding, and crowned with the sundawn's gold. There is not a flower but rejoices,

There is not a leaf but has heard: All the fields find voices, All the woods are stirred: There is not a nest but is brighter because of the coming of one bright bird.

Out of dawn and morning, Noon and afternoon, The sun to the world gives warning Of news that brightens the moon;

And the stars all night exult with us, hearing of joy that shall come with June.