Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE SOUTH-WEST WIND, by EDMUND CHARLES BLUNDEN



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THE SOUTH-WEST WIND, by             Poet's Biography
First Line: We stood by the idle weir
Last Line: Now all is still as death.
Alternate Author Name(s): Blunden, Edmund
Subject(s): Grief; Wind; Sorrow; Sadness


WE stood by the idle weir,
Like bells the waters played,
In moonlight sleeping through the shire,
As it would never fade:
So slept our shining peace of mind
Till rose a south-west wind.

How sorrow comes who knows?
And here joy surely had been:
But joy like any wild wind blows
From mountains none has seen,
And still its cloudy veilings throws
On the bright road it goes.

The black-plumed poplars swung
Softly across the sky;
The ivy sighed, the river sung,
Woolpacks were wafting high.
The moon her golden tinges flung
On these she straight was lost among.

O south-west wind of the soul,
That brought such new delight,
And passing by in music stole
Love's rich and trusting light,
Would that we thrilled to thy least breath,
Now all is still as death.





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