Wind of the April night,
Wind of the dawn,
No more my heart’s delight
Bugles me on.
Wind of the April rain,
Wind of the dawn,
Lull the old world from pain
Till pain be gone.
IV
Wind of the summer noon,
Wind of the hills,
Gently the hand of June
Stays thee and stills.
Far off, untouched by tears,
Raptures or ills,
Sleeps he a thousand years
Out on the hills.
Wind of the summer noon,
Wind of the hills,
Is the land fair and boon
Whither he wills?
V
Wind of the gulfs of night,
Wind of the sea,
Where the pale streamers light
My world for me,—
Breath of the wintry Norns,
Frost-touch or sleep,—
He whom my spirit mourns
Deep beyond deep
To the last void and dim
Where ages stream—
Is there no room for him
In all this dream?