When but a boy with eager ears The winds would talk to me; They told me tales of mountain meres And stories of the sea. The North Wind is Boreas' breath— He scuds across the plain, And howls in hurricanes of death And winding-sheets of rain. The East Wind tells of sage and sand And coyotes in a pack— Of whirling cyclones in his hand, And havoc in his track. But the West Wind is a pirate bold; She robs the sea and sings Of dewdrops rich as yellow gold— She bears them on her wings, And pours them out so full and free That baby streamlets grow; And so without the wind you see The rivers could not flow. Her silken wings now fan my face, And perfume shed the while Fresh from Pacific's fond embrace And sweet Hawaii's isle. She knows where Arabs pitch their tent And dolphins swim the sea, The secrets of the Orient, And Neptune's mystery. The South Wind brings the heat and dust, The North Wind brings the snow, But Nature sings, for sing she must, When the balmy West Winds blow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO HARTLEY COLERIDGE; SIX YEARS OLD by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH A SUMMER NIGHT by MATTHEW ARNOLD A POEM FOR THE SEFIROT AS WHEEL OF LIGHT by NAFTALI BACHARACH SINCERITIES by WILLIAM ROSE BENET PSALM 67 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE THE STREET CHILDREN'S DANCE by MATHILDE BLIND THE WIDOWER by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE WANDERER: 1. IN ITALY: THE CLOUD by EDWARD ROBERT BULWER-LYTTON |