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,
And the golden ears of wheat;
And its dreamy touch it lays
On the heavy mignonette, —
And it steals its odors fine, —
On the pansies dewy yet,
On the phloxes red as wine.
Where the honeysuckle bright
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 !
Celia Thaxter.