Classic Poem

O Little Wind of Arcady! The tired old city's waiting you,
Waiting mid the fog, the cold, the slush drifts and the rain,
Haunted by the memory of sunny days and happy days,
Waiting for the voice of you singing once again.

Through the days, the dreary days of winter we were missing you,
Far away in sunny lands we knew there was your song;
That was thought to cheer us then and keep us patient waiting you.
Hurry little perfumed wind, the hours are grey and long.
Ah, whisper you are coming soon O Little Wind of Arcady,
Bearing in your open arms the shy young flowers, of spring,
Bringing us poor city bound, grown weary in the winter time,
Happiness that holds the heart in every song you sing.