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MARCH WINDS
Wind, O wind of the Spring, thine old enchantment renewing,How at the shock of thy might wakens within me a cry!
Out of what wonderful lands, never trodden by man, never told of,
Lands where never a ship anchored or trafficker fared,
Comest thou, breathing like flame till the brown earth flames into blossom,
Quick'ning the sap of old woods swayed in thy stormy embrace,
Rousing in depths of the heart wild waves of an infinite longing,
Longing for freedom and life, yearning for Springs that are dead!
Surely the far blue sea, foam-fleck'd with the speed of thy coming
Brighten'd in laughter abroad, sang at the feet of the isles,
Sang in a tumult of joy as my soul sings trembling with passion,
Trembling with passion and hope, wild with the spirit of Spring.
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Hearing the storm of thy song blown from the height of the skies:—
Something remains upon earth to be done, to be dared, to be sought for,
Up with the anchor once more—out with the sails to the blast!
Out to the shock of the seas that encircle the Fortunate Islands,
Vision that burns in the blood, home of the Wind of the Spring.
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