The Spring Wind

Out in the night the Spring Wind blows, The ripened wheat is yellowing, The long, loud call of the nightingale Stirs the marrow of the bone. The sea is a lonely place, and woeful With the simmer and snarl of the winds.

I see through the window the stars, They whisper, they call as the waves recede, The vibrant heart of the rushing trees Finds in its beat the pulse of the Earth. A moonbeam dances over the grass, Its silver step in a midnight past.

Oh, the world has a whispering voice, In the hush of night where the flowers grow, Their petals drink the Spring Wind’s tears, And the earth breathes softly, purifying.

• Mary Webb