Summer Wind

It is a sultry day. The sun has drank the dew
That lay upon the morning grass. There is no rustling
In the lofty elm that canopies my dwelling
And its shade scarce cools me. All is silent, save
The faint and interrupted murmur of the bee
Settling on the sick flowers, and then again
Instantly on the wing. The plants around
Feel the too potent fervours. The tall maize rolls up
Its long green leaves. The clover droops its tender foliage
And declines its blooms. But far in the fierce sunshine

Tower the hills, with all their growth of woods
Silent and stern, as if the scorching heat
And dazzling light were but an element they loved
Bright clouds, motionless pillars of the brazen heaven
Their bases on the mountains, their white tops shining
In the far ether, fire the air with a reflected radiance

And make turn the gazer's eye away. For me, I lie
Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf
Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun, retains
Some freshness; and I woo the wind that still
Delays its coming. Why so slow, gentle and voluble
Spirit of the air? O come and breathe upon
The fainting earth coolness and life! Is it that in

His caves he hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge
The pine is bending his proud top; and now
Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak
Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!
Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves, the deep
Distressful silence of the scene breaks up with mingling

Of unnumbered sounds and universal motion. He has come
Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs, and bearing on
The fragrance. And he brings music of birds, and rustling
Of young boughs, and sound of swaying branches, and the voice
Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs are stirring
In his breath. A thousand flowers, by the roadside and the borders
Of the brook, nod gaily to each other. Glossy leaves
Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew were on them yet
And silver waters break into small waves and sparkle as he comes