O SWEET South Wind! Long hast thou linger'd midst those islands fair, Which lie, enchanted, on the Indian deep, Like sea-maids all asleep, Charm'd by the cloudless sun and azure air! O sweetest southern wind! Pause here awhile, and gently now unbind Thy dark rose-crowned hair! Wilt thou not unloose now, In this, the bluest of all hours, Thy passion-colour'd flowers? Rest; and let fall the fragrance from thy brow On Beauty's parted lips and closed eyes, And on her cheeks, which crimson-liked the skies; And slumber on her bosom, white as snow, Whilst starry midnight flies! We, whom the northern blast Blows on, from night till morn, from morn to eve, Hearing thee, sometimes grieve That our poor summer's day not long may last: And yet, perhaps, 'twere well We should not ever dwell With thee, sweet spirit of the sunny south; But touch thy odorous mouth Once, and be gone unto our blasts again, And their bleak welcome, and our wintry snow; And arm us (by enduring) for that pain Which the bad world sends forth, and all its wo! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...POOR POLL by ROBERT SEYMOUR BRIDGES DOST THOU ASK? by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS THE BATTLE OF QUEENSTOWN by WILLIAM BANKER JR. PSALM 24. DOMINI EST TERRA by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE HINC LACHRIMAE; OR THE AUTHOR TO AURORA: 4 by WILLIAM BOSWORTH THE TOPMOST BOUGH by GAMALIEL BRADFORD |