Wild Winds
Oh, oh, how the wild winds blow!
Blow high,
Blow low,
And whirlwinds go,
To chase the little leaves that fly—
Fly low and high,
To hollow and to steep hill-side;
They shiver in the dreary weather,
And creep in little heaps together,
And nestle close and try to hide.
Oh, oh, how the wild winds blow!
Blow low,
Blow high,
And whirlwinds try
To find a crevice—to find a crack,
They whirl to the front; they whirl to the back.
But Tommy and Will and the baby together
Are snug and safe from the wintry weather.
All the winds that blow
Cannot touch a toe—
Cannot twist or twirl
One silken curl.
They may rattle the doors in a noisy pack,
But the blazing fires will drive them back.
Mary F. Butts.
Now the Noisy Winds Are Still[D]
Now the noisy winds are still;
April's coming up the hill!
All the spring is in her train,
Led by shining ranks of rain;
Pit, pat, patter, clatter,
Sudden sun, and clatter, patter!—
First the blue, and then the shower;
Bursting bud, and smiling flower;
Brooks set free with tinkling ring;
Birds too full of song to sing;
Crisp old leaves astir with pride,
Where the timid violets hide,—
All things ready with a will,—
April's coming up the hill!
Mary Mapes Dodge.