Poems (Commelin)/Atmospheres

by Anna Olcott Commelin

ATMOSPHERES.

Low and heavy, cold and gray,
Hang the clouds in drear November,
While the wind, with sullen moan,
Train of ills its undertone,
Sweeps upon us from the east,
Head and heart and flesh the prey
To Pandora's woes. Dark day!
'Tis a day we shall remember.

Winter comes, and northern wind
Blows from coldest arctic places,—
Lands where slender flowers pale
Waft no fragrance on the gale.
Pure and strong thy breath we find,
Spirit of the frost and sleet.
Only stout and stanch can meet
Thy cold touch upon their faces.

Sweet south wind, from land so fair,
Balm of love and fragrance flinging,
Lurks no poison, chill, and death
On thy soft and scented breath.
All is harmony in thee,
Wafted on thy laden air,
Mingling with its perfumes rare,
Joyous notes of birds are ringing.

Brave west wind, yet gentle too,
Thou, of all, art for my choosing.
Wholesome is thy influence,
In thy touch beneficence,
Life and joy and strength are thine!
Thou art trusty, thou art true
As thy heaven's expanse of blue,
Charms of north and south winds fusing.

Knowest thou not, oh friend who feels,
Of the human atmosphere?
Hast thou, in its alien air,
Felt depression, doubt, and care
Chilling thee like eastern wind?
Subtle, still, it o'er thee steals,
Bruises, irritates, nor heals,
Tortures with distrust and fear.

Atmospheres thou, too, hast known,
Like the icy wind from far.
Those who have them,—strong are they,
Yet of warmth impart no ray.
Tender ruth, they know thee not!
For the weak who, stumbling, moan
Ne'er, by shrift, to them atone.
Pure they shine, like heaven's bright star.

Friend, my gentle friend, in thee
Dwells the south wind's atmosphere.
Doubt and care and vague unrest
Find no place within my breast:
Ne'er a haunting shade to mar
Cometh between thee and me.
All is sunlight, flooding, free,
Looking in thine eyes so clear.

Friend, like west wind, true and brave,
Well for those who own thee nearest;
And, if any know thee not,
Drear must be their earthly lot.
Never weakling thou, and yet
Still so tender thou canst save
Hope and courage from the grave.
Gentle, strong, thou art the dearest!