The north wind comes romping and racing, -- It rumples my hair and my dress. It snatches away all my playthings, -- Makes me angry, I'll confess. My Grandfather says that the east wind Makes his "rheumatiz feel very bad"; He calls it the "wind melancholy" -- And says it makes everyone sad. But the south wind comes tripping so lightly, Blows kisses to my hair and lips, Joins so gently in the game I am playing That I'm glad to my fingertips. How much better to be like the south wind, And to make little children be glad, Than to be like the north or the east winds, And make them angry or sad! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COWPER'S GRAVE by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING THE BALLAD OF CHRISTMAS by WALTER JOHN DE LA MARE THREE GRAINS OF CORN; THE IRISH FAMINE by AMELIA BLANDFORD EDWARDS SONNET: TO SLEEP by JOHN KEATS TEARS by LIZETTE WOODWORTH REESE IT IS FINISHED' by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE KINGDOM OF GOD by FRANCIS THOMPSON GOLDEN HILL by HAMILTON FISH ARMSTRONG MR. PETER'S STORY: THE BAGMAN'S DOG by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |