I come from out the West, And I breathe a breath of rest, And the sweet birds greet me singing From every tiny nest. I am the wind of flow'rs -- I haunt the wild-wood bow'rs -- And when my song is ringing Spring knows her sweetest hours. But when the autumn days Grow short, I rise and race Thro' all the woodlands, flinging Strewn leaves o'er every place. When winter comes once more, With deep tumultuous roar I sweep o'er ocean, bringing Wild tempests to each shore. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...UPON DRINKING IN A BOWL by ANACREON HOME-THOUGHTS, FROM ABROAD by ROBERT BROWNING AULD LANG SYNE by ROBERT BURNS THE BLISSFUL DAY by ROBERT BURNS HOW THE CUMBERLAND WENT DOWN [MARCH 8, 1862] by SILAS WEIR MITCHELL |