A GREAT WIND
A GREAT wind blows through the pine trees,
A clean salt wind from sea,
A loud wind full of all healing
Blows kindly but boisterously;
Oh, a good wind blows through the pine trees
And the heart and mind of me!
A wind stirs the long grass lightly
And the dear young flowers of May,
And blows in the English meadows
The breath of a Summer’s day—
But this wind rings with honour
And is wet with the cold sea spray.
There are straits where the tall ships founder
And no live thing may draw breath,
Where men look at splendid, angry skies
And hear what the thunder saith:
Where men look their last at glory
And bravely drink of death.
There is much afoot this evening
In these pine woods by the sea,
And no branch shall endure until morning
That is rotten on the tree—
Nor any decayed thing endure in my soul
When God’s wind blows through me!
BIRTHDAY SONNET
HOW shall I find the words of perfect praise,
To give you back the gladness and the mirth,
With which you filled my hands, the lyric days
Your gracious bounty gave me in my dearth?
My song fails on the wing, and yet I know
The meaning of Spring’s living ecstasy,
The laughing prophecy the March winds blow
Among the buds, and through the heart of me.
I know, I know the rose and silver dress,
Wherewith God clothed that clear and virginal morn,
Which came to you in joyful gentleness,
The hour of shy delight when you were born.
I know the innocence and sweet surprise,
The waiting earth made ready for your eyes.