Читать книгу Poems - Cawein Madison Julius - Страница 31

  The wind that breathes of columbines

  And celandines that crowd the rocks;

  That shakes the balsam of the pines

  With laughter from his airy locks,

  Stops at my city door and knocks.

  He calls me far a-forest, where

  The twin-leaf and the blood-root bloom;

  And, circled by the amber air,

  Life sits with beauty and perfume

  Weaving the new web of her loom.

  He calls me where the waters run

  Through fronding ferns where wades the hern;

  And, sparkling in the equal sun,

  Song leans above her brimming urn,

  And dreams the dreams that love shall learn.

  The wind has summoned, and I go:

  To read God's meaning in each line

  The wildflowers write; and, walking slow,

  God's purpose, of which song is sign,—

  The wind's great, gusty hand in mine.