WINDY MORNING

Dawn with a jubilant shout

Leaps on the shivering sea

And puffs the last pale planet out

And scatters the flame-bright clouds about

Like the leaves of a frost-bitten tree.

Does a gold seed split the rosy husk?

Nay, a sword... a shield... a spear!

The kindler of all fires that burn

Deep in the day's cerulean urn

Rides up across the clear

And tramples down the cowering dusk

Like a strong-browed charioteer.

Blow out and far away

The dim, the dull, the dun;

Prosper the crimson, blight the gray,

And blow us clean of yesterday,

Stern morning fair begun,

Till the earth is an opal bathed in dew,

Flashing with emerald, gold, and blue,

Held where the skies wash through and through

High up against the sun.