Classic Poem

Days must be hot to make the cotton white,
And have their own peculiar yellow glare,
But when the Gulf wind booms its way at night,
There is no lovelier darkness anywhere.
I lift my face — I turn toward the South,
My hair blows loose — the wind along my path
Is like a drink to any thirsty mouth;
Is like a plunge in some soft-water bath.
I drink the wind! I bathe in it! I dive,
With outstretched arms, a swimmer in my glee!
The wind has made me gloriously alive,
Its waves roll in, and they sweep over me!
No day can be too hot, too long and bright,
If it be followed by a Texas night.