Sep 29

Wind poems, by Rossetti, Stevens, Frost

I love the wind. Love it as long as it’s not so icy cold that it bites your skin (and even then, if I’m in the mood, I find it thrilling). Love it as long as it doesn’t threaten with tremendous gusts (and then, as long as no terrible harm is done, it leaves me awed). The winds I love best, though, are the warm, light breezes–so soft you have to close your eyes to feel them–and the wild winds, the ones that run ahead of the storm, chasing their own tails and blowing your hair every which way at once.

But enough about me and my wind infatuation, here are some poets’ thoughts on the subject:

Image via pixabay/blickpixel

Who Has Seen the Wind?

Christina Rossetti, 1830 – 1894
Who has seen the wind?
Neither I nor you:
But when the leaves hang trembling,
The wind is passing through.
Who has seen the wind?
Neither you nor I:
But when the trees bow down their heads,
The wind is passing by.

To The Roaring Wind

Wallace Stevens, 1879 – 1955

What syllable are you seeking,
In the distances of sleep?
Speak it.

To the Thawing Wind

Robert Frost1874 – 1963

Come with rain, O loud Southwester!
Bring the singer, bring the nester;
Give the buried flower a dream;
Make the settled snowbank steam;
Find the brown beneath the white;
But whate’er you do tonight,
Bathe my window, make it flow,
Melt it as the ice will go;
Melt the glass and leave the sticks
Like a hermit’s crucifix;
Burst into my narrow stall;
Swing the picture on the wall;
Run the rattling pages o’er;
Scatter poems on the floor;
Turn the poet out of door.


Thanks for stopping by and braving the winds with me! Sending you wishes for a weekend full of happy moments and soft breezes!


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