O WIND, thou hast thy kingdom in the trees.
And all thy royalties
Sweep through the land to-day.
It is mid June,
And thou, with all thine instruments in tune,
Of heaving fields, and heavy, swinging fir,
Strikest a lay
That doth rehearse
Her ancient freedom to the universe.
All other sound in awe
Repeals its law ;
The bird is mute, the sea
Sucks up its waves, from rain
The burthened clouds refrain.
To listen to thee in thy leafery.
Lavish, large, soothing, refluent summer-wind !