Cooling zephyrs haste away, Round my humid temples play; Groves and grots in pity leave, On my fainting bosom breathe! Skim, as you pass, your silken wings O'er gurgling founts, and glassy springs. Oh! come from Greenland's icy plains, Where silver Winter constant reigns; Or from the Arctic, higher fly Thro' the chill Norwegian sky——— @3Turn not@1 to Gallia's sunny vales, Nor mix with yours Italia's gales, Strait o'er the northern ocean sweep, Where pearls the frozen Naïads weep; But on high Grampia's fleecy top, Where kids, the gelid herbage crop, @3There@1 zephyr touch!—then, with new wing Fresh from its chilly caverns spring. Oh! linger not, midst England's fields, Nor taste the sweets the garden yields; Heed not our meadows' gaudy charms, But dart, with vigour, to my arms! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPRING WIND IN LONDON by KATHERINE MANSFIELD ON AN UNFINISHED STATUE BY MICHAEL ANGELO by GEORGE SANTAYANA SUMTER [APRIL 12, 1861] by EDMUND CLARENCE STEDMAN UMBRAE PUELLULARUM by WILLIAM ROSE BENET THE PRIDE OF BEAUTY by PIERRE JEAN DE BERANGER THE GREEK PARTISAN by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT A MOTHER'S LAMENT [FOR THE DEATH OF HER SON] by ROBERT BURNS |