ANOTHER day awakes. And who -- Changing the world -- is this? He comes at whiles, the winter through, West Wind! I would not miss His sudden tryst: the long, the new Surprises of his kiss. Vigilant, I make haste to close With him who comes my way, I go to meet him as he goes; I know his note, his lay, His colour and his morning-rose, And I confess his day. My window waits; at dawn I hark His call; at morn I meet His haste around the tossing park And down the softened street; The gentler light is his: the dark, The grey -- he turns it sweet. So too, so too, do I confess My poet when he sings. He rushes on my mortal guess With his immortal things. I feel, I know, him. On I press -- He finds me 'twixt his wings. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A CORN SONG by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE BATTLE OF CHARLESTON HARBOR by PAUL HAMILTON HAYNE NOCTURNAL SKETCH; BLANK VERSE IN RHYME by THOMAS HOOD STABAT MATER DOLOROSA by JACOPONE DA TODI EPITAPH ON S.P., A CHILD OF QUEEN ELIZABETH'S CHAPEL by BEN JONSON |