Cooling zephyrs haste away, Round my humid temples play; Groves and grots in pity leave, On my fainting bosom breathe! Skim, as you pass, your silken wings O'er gurgling founts, and glassy springs. Oh! come from Greenland's icy plains, Where silver Winter constant reigns; Or from the Arctic, higher fly Thro' the chill Norwegian sky——— @3Turn not@1 to Gallia's sunny vales, Nor mix with yours Italia's gales, Strait o'er the northern ocean sweep, Where pearls the frozen Naïads weep; But on high Grampia's fleecy top, Where kids, the gelid herbage crop, @3There@1 zephyr touch!—then, with new wing Fresh from its chilly caverns spring. Oh! linger not, midst England's fields, Nor taste the sweets the garden yields; Heed not our meadows' gaudy charms, But dart, with vigour, to my arms! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SPOON RIVER ANTHOLOGY: DOW BRITT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS CA' THE YOWES TO THE KNOWES by ROBERT BURNS SPRING by GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS EXILED by EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY THE FLIGHT OF THE WAR-EAGLE by OBADIAH CYRUS AURINGER PILGRIMAGE by ELIZABETH WILCOX BEASLEY |