West-Wind
THE barley bows from the west
Before the delicate breeze
That many a sail caressed
As it swept the sapphire seas.
It has found the garden sweet,
And the poppy’s cup it sways;
Bends the golden ears of wheat;
And its dreamy touch it lays
On the heavy mignonette,
Stealing soft its odors fine,
On the pansies dewy yet,
On the phloxes red as wine.
Where the honeysuckle sweet
Storms the sunny porch with flowers,
Like a tempest of delight
Shaking fragrance down in showers,
It touches with airy grace
Each clustering, perfumed spray,
Clasps all in a light embrace,
And silently wanders away.
Come forth in the air divine,
Thou dearest, my crown of bliss!
Give that flower-sweet cheek of thine
To the morning breeze to kiss.
Add but thy perfect presence
To gladden my happy eyes,
And I would not change earth’s morning
For the dawns of Paradise!
