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 side
For 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 falls
From a toss'd and broken tree.
  Yea, Autumn, thou calledst, and I am here;
  Hark to my answer that ringeth clear
As 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 gold
At 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.