Classic Poem

O Love, the wind would have us for a while,
He called aloud our names about the eaves,
Then passed like smoke across the meadow grass
And with a breath made silver of the leaves.

He cried to us to follow at his heels,
He wound his horn where whitening willows grow.
He stood awhile with ruffled wings to watch
The swayings loosestrife and the river's flow.

Come out, beloved, let us follow him,
The dripping ivy taps against the pane,
They bid us to the dance in field and wood,
They beckon us — our playmates, wind and rain.

They whisper to us of a hidden place
Within the windswept woods, where boughs bend low,
Where two may sit and learn their secret lore,
Where haunted hazels and where rowans grow.

The wind is waiting, in your wistful eyes
I see the woods reflected, gay and wild.
What is a world of bricks and men to you?
Come out! Come out! The woods have claimed their child.