ANOTHER day awakes. And who -- Changing the world -- is this? He comes at whiles, the winter through, West Wind! I would not miss His sudden tryst: the long, the new Surprises of his kiss. Vigilant, I make haste to close With him who comes my way, I go to meet him as he goes; I know his note, his lay, His colour and his morning-rose, And I confess his day. My window waits; at dawn I hark His call; at morn I meet His haste around the tossing park And down the softened street; The gentler light is his: the dark, The grey -- he turns it sweet. So too, so too, do I confess My poet when he sings. He rushes on my mortal guess With his immortal things. I feel, I know, him. On I press -- He finds me 'twixt his wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NURSING HOME: THE CANARY by KAREN SWENSON THE RESOLVE by MARY LEE CHUDLEIGH AN ORCHARD AT AVIGNON by AGNES MARY F. ROBINSON THE GARLAND OF SLEEP by AUGUSTE ANGELLIER THE STORY OF FIORDISPINA, FR. ORLANDO FURIOSO by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO |