Poems (Hinxman)/A South Wind in April
A SOUTH WIND IN APRIL.
This April wind
Flows through the land, and ever in its train
Life wakens. Life, on its full bosom caught,
Streams with its stream, in beauty, scent and sound.
The stock-dove pours her passion forth, and joy
Is clamoured from the rookery: the blithe cock
Shakes his clear cymbal in the farmer's yard;
The very air is warbling o'er the downs
Where late the skylark cowered on rufiled breast;
The blackbird spells his cadence o'er,—the same,
Yet still of all desired. The Poet's heart
Sends forth its tender yearning messages
In numbers sweet, or sweeter thoughts unsaid.
The ploughman from the fresh-turned furrow draws
Odours which make him whistle for content;
The babe is glad, it knows not why; and lines
From cheerful hymns accost the sick man's thoughts:—
He looks forth from his window, and he sees
The far-off hills spread out their smiling breasts
To greet the comer and invite his sweep;
And he, too, spreads abroad his sun-lit soul
To meet a breath which stirs its placid joys;
For in that bounteous visitant he knows
The Maker's presence, and the Giver's love.
Flows through the land, and ever in its train
Life wakens. Life, on its full bosom caught,
Streams with its stream, in beauty, scent and sound.
The stock-dove pours her passion forth, and joy
Is clamoured from the rookery: the blithe cock
Shakes his clear cymbal in the farmer's yard;
The very air is warbling o'er the downs
Where late the skylark cowered on rufiled breast;
The blackbird spells his cadence o'er,—the same,
Yet still of all desired. The Poet's heart
Sends forth its tender yearning messages
In numbers sweet, or sweeter thoughts unsaid.
The ploughman from the fresh-turned furrow draws
Odours which make him whistle for content;
The babe is glad, it knows not why; and lines
From cheerful hymns accost the sick man's thoughts:—
He looks forth from his window, and he sees
The far-off hills spread out their smiling breasts
To greet the comer and invite his sweep;
And he, too, spreads abroad his sun-lit soul
To meet a breath which stirs its placid joys;
For in that bounteous visitant he knows
The Maker's presence, and the Giver's love.
April 6. 1853.