Classic Poem

Hail to thee, voyager of the Southern sea!
Freshly thou visitest my heated brow,
While thy soft music, through the sheltering tree,
Sounds with the motion of each laden bough.
The flower-leaf's treasure to the languid bee
Cannot be dearer than, sweet wind, art thou;
As thus upon my eyelids in the bliss
Of calm repose, I feel thy gentle kiss.

With what delicious fragrance from the sky,
Moving the wavy clouds pavilioned there,
The newly-moistened earth thou breathest nigh!
Oh tenderly uplift the glossy hair
Of Beauty listening to thy murmured sigh;
Stir the thin locks of Age all silvery fair;
And stray, oh Child of Heaven, o'er the green land, —
Burthened with sweetness, scattered by thy hand.

Kind nature woos thee to her mild embrace;
The lofty forests and far sloping vales;
The shadowy outlines, in the distant space,
Of mountains broad, where mortal vision fails;
The sweeping stream, upon whose waters chase,
Like sportive pinions, many graceful sails;
The very rocks that totter o'er the steep;
All seem to feel thy breathings pure and deep.

And living creatures, with a sudden thrill
Of gladness, hear the rustling of thy wings,
Among the leaves where rain-gems glitter still;
Aloft the deer his antlers proudly flings,
While drops of clear delight his big eyes fill;
A merry song the pensive blackbird sings,
And homely kine forget the scented grass, —
When, like a heavenly blessing, thou dost pass.

Breathe on, thou gentle Spirit, linger yet —
Till melancholy twilight comes to steal
Day's weary fervor — till some star has set
Upon the scroll of heaven its brilliant seal —
Till bending roses with night's tears are wet;
Then, leave us, if thou must, when we can feel,
Like thine own influence, on the unquiet breast
The silent holiness of evening rest!