|ELCore.Net > Poetry > Catholic Poets > Poems of Alice Meynell|
|West Wind in Winter|
Another day awakes. And who |
Changing the worldis this?
He comes at whiles, the winter through,
West Wind! I would not miss
His sudden tryst: the long, the new
Surprises of his kiss.
Vigilant, I make haste to close |
With him who comes my way.
I go to meet him as he goes;
I know his note, his lay,
His colour and his morning-rose,
And I confess his day.
My window waits; at dawn I hark |
His call; at morn I meet
His haste around the tossing park
And down the softened street;
The gentler light is his: the dark,
The greyhe turns it sweet.
So too, so too, do I confess |
My poet when he sings.
He rushes on my mortal guess
With his immortal things.
I feel, I know, him. On I press
He finds me ’twixt his wings.
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Lane Core Jr. (firstname.lastname@example.org)
Created April 8, 2001; not revised.