To the South Wind.
Balmy breeze from the blossomy south,1
Kissing my lips with thy tender mouth,2
Touching my forehead with delicate hand,3
Lifting my hair up with breath so bland,4
And bathing my head with scents of flowers,5
Borne from the laps of southern bowers—6
Balmy breeze, I behold not thee ;7
Yet, oh, how beautiful thou must be !8
Stay—wilt thou stay, sweet breeze ? Ah ! now9
It hath fled away from my lip and brow ;10
There, over the plain, its wide robe spreads,11
And the gentle flowers are bending their heads :12
It hath enter’d the wood—the beautiful breeze !13
I hear its music among the trees ;14
And now it is passing over the river—15
I know by the water’s timid quiver.16
Balmy breeze ! I behold not thee ;17
But, oh, how beautiful thou must be !18
Come, thou breeze, from the bloomy south,19
Kiss my lips with thy tender mouth ;20
Touch my brow with thy delicate hand,21
And take me away to thy southern land ;22
Then never more, breeze invisible, roam,23
But dwell with me in thy spirit’s home.24