I come from out the West, And I breathe a breath of rest, And the sweet birds greet me singing From every tiny nest. I am the wind of flow'rs -- I haunt the wild-wood bow'rs -- And when my song is ringing Spring knows her sweetest hours. But when the autumn days Grow short, I rise and race Thro' all the woodlands, flinging Strewn leaves o'er every place. When winter comes once more, With deep tumultuous roar I sweep o'er ocean, bringing Wild tempests to each shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FIRST LESSON by EMILY DICKINSON TROILUS AND CRESSIDA: SONG by JOHN DRYDEN TO HIS CONSCIENCE by ROBERT HERRICK BEETHOVEN'S THIRD SYMPHONY by RICHARD HOVEY SONNET UPON HISTORIE OF GEORGE CASTRIOT, ALIAS SCANDERBERG by EDMUND SPENSER IN MEMORIAM A.H.H.: 11 by ALFRED TENNYSON THE TWO VOICES by ALFRED TENNYSON |