There's more than music in this early wind,
Awaking like a bird refreshed from sleep;
And joy that Adam might in Eden find,
When he with angels did communion keep.
It breathes all balm and incense from the sky,
Blessing the husbandman with freshening powers;
Joy's manna from its wings doth fall and lie,
Harvests for early wakers with the flowers.
The very grass in Joy's devotion moves;
Cowslips, in adoration and delight,
This way and that bow to the breath they love
Of the young Winds, that with their dew-pearls play,
Till smoking chimneys sicken the young light,
And Feeling's fairy visions fade away.