Page:The Yellow Book - 01.djvu/70

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With loving cheek pressed close against thy horny breast,
    I hear the roar of sap mounting within thy veins;
Tingling with buds, thy great hands open towards the west,
    To catch the sweetheart wind that brings the sister rains.

O winds that blow from out the fruitful mouth of God,
    O rains that softly fall from his all-loving eyes,
You that bring buds to trees and daisies to the sod,
    O God's best Angel of the Spring, in me arise.