To the Wind

I

WIND, breathe thine art
Upon my heart;
Blow the wild sweet in!
Let my song begin.

Bring measures grave;
The hill pines wave;
Blow with thee along
All the valley song.

Hymn of the night,
Hymn of the light,
Rhythm of land and sea,
Breathe to the heart of me.

Swift wind of God,
Quicking the clod,
Give of the heavens strong
My heart a song!

II

Wind in the late September bough,
Rocking the empty nest,
Never before so sweet as now
Your melody of rest.

Is it because so close they be, A
The loss, the bitter smart, —
The sighing in the naked tree,
The crying in the heart ?