The north wind comes romping and racing, -- It rumples my hair and my dress. It snatches away all my playthings, -- Makes me angry, I'll confess. My Grandfather says that the east wind Makes his "rheumatiz feel very bad"; He calls it the "wind melancholy" -- And says it makes everyone sad. But the south wind comes tripping so lightly, Blows kisses to my hair and lips, Joins so gently in the game I am playing That I'm glad to my fingertips. How much better to be like the south wind, And to make little children be glad, Than to be like the north or the east winds, And make them angry or sad! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SORROW by DAVID HERBERT LAWRENCE SIMON LEGREE: NEGRO SERMON; MEMORIAL TO BOOKER T. WASHINGTON by NICHOLAS VACHEL LINDSAY THE CRADLE OF THE DEEP by EMMA HART WILLARD OUR PASSWORD by ISIDORE G. ASCHER THE WARDROBE OF REMEMBRANCE by WILLIAM ROSE BENET HYMN FOR THE ANNIVERSARY OF HARTFORD AGRICULTURAL SOCIETY by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE MELTING POT by BERTON BRALEY |