 | The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley |  |
1105
BECALMED
I
Would that the winds might only blowAs they blew in the golden long ago!—
Laden with odors of Orient isles
Where ever and ever the sunshine smiles,
And the bright sands blend with the shady trees,
And the lotus blooms in the midst of these.
II
Warm winds won from the midland valesTo where the tress of the Siren trails
O'er the flossy tip of the mountain phlox
And the bare limbs twined in the crested rocks,
High above as the sea-gulls flap
Their lopping wings at the thunderclap.
III
Ah! that the winds might rise and blowThe great surge up from the port below,
Bloating the sad, lank, silken sails
Of the Argo out with the swift, sweet gales
1106
His love's full will and his heart was glad—
When Medea's voice was soft and low.
Ah! that the winds might rise and blow!
| The Complete Works of James Whitcomb Riley | |