A Summer Wind

O wind, thou hast thy kingdom in the trees,

        And all thy royalties

        Sweep through the land to-day.

              It is mid June,

And thou, with all thy instruments in tune,

              Thine orchestra

Of heaving fields and heavy swinging fir,

              Strikest a lay

              That doth rehearse

Her ancient freedom to the universe.

        All other sound in awe

              Repeats its law:

        The bird is mute; the sea

        Sucks up its waves; from rain

        The burthened clouds refrain,

To listen to thee in thy leafery,

              Thou unconfined,

Lavish, large, soothing, refluent summer wind.