I bid the leaves burst forth and greet the sun.
I lure the modest bloom
From out the soil-sweet gloom;
I bid the wild-bird leave the drowsy South.
My loves are violets. By my pure kisses won,
They spring from earth, and smile,
All-innocent, the while
I woo them in the aisles of pensive woods.
I am the Wind. From dew-pearl’d heights of wonder
I fall like music on the listening wheat.