Summer Wind.

It is a sultry day; the sun has drunk     The dew that lay upon the morning grass;     There is no rustling in the lofty elm     That canopies my dwelling, and its shade     Scarce cools me. All is silent, save the faint     And interrupted murmur of the bee,     Settling on the sick flowers, and then again     Instantly on the wing. The plants around     Feel the too potent fervours: the tall maize     Rolls up its long green leaves; the clover droops     Its tender foliage, and declines its blooms.     But far in the fierce sunshine tower the hills,     With all their growth of woods, silent and stern,     As if the scorching heat and dazzling light     Were but an element they loved. Bright clouds,     Motionless pillars of the brazen heaven,     Their bases on the mountains, their white tops     Shining in the far ether, fire the air     With a reflected radiance, and make turn     The gazer's eye away. For me, I lie     Languidly in the shade, where the thick turf,     Yet virgin from the kisses of the sun,     Retains some freshness, and I woo the wind     That still delays its coming. Why so slow,     Gentle and voluble spirit of the air?     Oh, come and breathe upon the fainting earth     Coolness and life. Is it that in his caves     He hears me? See, on yonder woody ridge,     The pine is bending his proud top, and now     Among the nearer groves, chestnut and oak     Are tossing their green boughs about. He comes!     Lo, where the grassy meadow runs in waves!     The deep distressful silence of the scene     Breaks up with mingling of unnumbered sounds     And universal motion. He is come,     Shaking a shower of blossoms from the shrubs,     And bearing on their fragrance; and he brings     Music of birds, and rustling of young boughs,     And sound of swaying branches, and the voice     Of distant waterfalls. All the green herbs     Are stirring in his breath; a thousand flowers,     By the road-side and the borders of the brook,     Nod gayly to each other; glossy leaves     Are twinkling in the sun, as if the dew     Were on them yet, and silver waters break     Into small waves and sparkle as he comes.