The Breeze

A dewy kiss from morning’s breath,
The gentle sway of nature’s cheek,
In every gust, a dance of death,
Yet life embraces all that seek.

O breeze that sweeps across the land,
In harmony, you softly weave,
Through hills and fields, your guiding hand,
In every heart, a place to grieve.

Yet in that grief, a love remains,
For nature speaks in bittersweet,
In every sigh, the soul attains,
A bond with earth, it feels complete.

• Herman Melville