MESSENGERS

The wind, that gives the rose a kiss

With murmured music of the south,

Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this,—

The wind, that gives the rose a kiss —

The perfume of her mouth.

The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,

And echoes in a grottoed place,

Hath held a fairer thing than these,—

The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,—

The image of her face.

O happy wind! O happy brook!

So dear before, so free of cares!

How dearer since her kiss and look,—

O happy wind! O happy brook!—

Have blessed you unawares!