Poems (Hinchman)/I am the wind from the South

by Anne Hinchman

XXII A SONG OF SEASONS

THE WIND OF SPRING

I am the wind from the South: From the glowing South I follow'd the Spring, Naked and swift I follow'd her wing,I follow'd the cry of her mouth.  With her bright arms my body she clips,  I am become but the breath of her lips,The violets her smile doth bring.

THE SUMMER WIND

I am the Summer's wind: All through the languid hours that be A leafy bower for her and me,My will doth she sweetly bind;  But with the flow of the morning tide  I leave her soft and burning sideFor the spray and the cool of the sea.

THE AUTUMN WIND

Autumn hath call'd to me; In the first bright night her lover she calls, And I fly, I fly, and the first leaf fallsFrom a toss'd and broken tree.  Yea, Autumn, thou calledst, and I am here;  Hark to my answer that ringeth clearAs I cry through the night's long halls.

WINTER'S WIND

I have set my icy breath To blow in the trumpet that winter doth hold; The sun hath hidden his cheering goldAt the blast that calls for death.  I have set my foot on the stiffen'd ground;  Death answers my call with a rattling sound:He hath answer'd my calls of old.