Winds to-day are large and free

WINDS to-day are large and free, 
Winds to-day are westerly ; 
From the land they seem to blow 
Whence the sap begins to flow 
And the dimpled light to spread, 
From the country of the dead. 

Ah, it is a wild, sweet land 

Where the coming May is planned, 

Where such influences throb 

As our frosts can never rob 

Of their triumph, when they bound 

Through the tree and from the ground. 

Great within me is my soul. 
Great to journey to its goal. 
To the country of the dead ; 
For the cornel-tips are red, 
And a passion rich in strife 
Drives me toward the home of life. 

Oh, to keep the spring with them 
Who have flushed the cornel-stem, 
Who imagine at its source 
All the year's delicious course, 
Then express by wind and light 
Something of their rapture's height !