 | Shamrocks |  |
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TWO WINDS
EAST WIND.
Through the streets of the seaboard town
A wind comes riotously,
Breathing salty and sweet;
Only an hour agone
It walked on the pathless sea
With grey, invisible feet.
A wind comes riotously,
Breathing salty and sweet;
Only an hour agone
It walked on the pathless sea
With grey, invisible feet.
Where hast thou come from, Wind,
With the sea's sweets on thy lips?
From the Orient, golden and far,
From Egypt and dusky Ind.
Like the sails of colossal ships
The plumes of thy wide wings are.
With the sea's sweets on thy lips?
From the Orient, golden and far,
From Egypt and dusky Ind.
Like the sails of colossal ships
The plumes of thy wide wings are.
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Thou hast held tall palms to thy breast,
And tasted the lotus' breath,
And drunk of the strange flowers' spice,
And scaled Himalaya's crest;
Then swooped to the plains beneath,
To walk through the waving rice.
And tasted the lotus' breath,
And drunk of the strange flowers' spice,
And scaled Himalaya's crest;
Then swooped to the plains beneath,
To walk through the waving rice.
Thou hast watched in the temple's gloom,
Before the veil of a shrine,
The beautiful maidens wait;
Oh, warm as poppies in bloom,
With eyes like the amber wine,
And lips like the pomegranate!
Before the veil of a shrine,
The beautiful maidens wait;
Oh, warm as poppies in bloom,
With eyes like the amber wine,
And lips like the pomegranate!
Thou hast crept by a thorn-choked path
With the tiger creeping before—
Red eyeballs seeking his prey;
When the lion, wounded to death,
Shook the skies with his roar
In the dusk of the jungle's day.
With the tiger creeping before—
Red eyeballs seeking his prey;
When the lion, wounded to death,
Shook the skies with his roar
In the dusk of the jungle's day.
O'er seas and sands thou hast come,
Swifter than swallows in flight,
Swifter than dark and day,
And the risen sun is thy home;
Thou chasest winter and night,
With thy kiss like the salt sea-spray!
Swifter than swallows in flight,
Swifter than dark and day,
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Thou chasest winter and night,
With thy kiss like the salt sea-spray!
WEST WIND.
Come in, wet wind of the West,
Through the dusty streets of the town,
With the scent of the new-mown hay,
And a song of a bird by the nest,
A breath of roses new blown,
The laughter of children at play!
Through the dusty streets of the town,
With the scent of the new-mown hay,
And a song of a bird by the nest,
A breath of roses new blown,
The laughter of children at play!
The meadows are waving high
With plumy grasses of grey,
And gold-eyed daisies are born;
There's a lark in the silvery sky,
And a thrush on the wild-rose spray,
And poppies in the green corn.
With plumy grasses of grey,
And gold-eyed daisies are born;
There's a lark in the silvery sky,
And a thrush on the wild-rose spray,
And poppies in the green corn.
In the woods there's a singing burn,
And swallows stooping for flies
O'er pebbles topaz and beryl.
All day will the wood-doves mourn,
And gaze in each other's eyes;
And the fronds of the fern uncurl.
And swallows stooping for flies
O'er pebbles topaz and beryl.
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And gaze in each other's eyes;
And the fronds of the fern uncurl.
Oh, blow, wet wind of the West,
Through every window and door,
And kiss the children asleep,
And soothe the dying to rest,
In the dreary homes of the poor,
Where Fever his watch doth keep!
Through every window and door,
And kiss the children asleep,
And soothe the dying to rest,
In the dreary homes of the poor,
Where Fever his watch doth keep!
The green things, heavy with pain,
Lift their languishing brows
From the highway's dust and its heat:
For thy beautiful daughter, the Rain,
Clad in the pearl and the rose,
Walks by thee with silvery feet.
Lift their languishing brows
From the highway's dust and its heat:
For thy beautiful daughter, the Rain,
Clad in the pearl and the rose,
Walks by thee with silvery feet.
Oh, freshest of winds that blow,
Come in from thy valleys cool,
From the bowers of the evening star,
The gardens of after-glow,
With crimson roses at full,
And lilies that perfect are!
Come in from thy valleys cool,
From the bowers of the evening star,
The gardens of after-glow,
With crimson roses at full,
And lilies that perfect are!
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