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Poems About The Wind

Enjoy these poems about the wind. We cannot see the wind, yet we certainly can feel it. The Poets describe the wind and the feelings it can give. The sound of a summer wind blowing through the trees can give you a sense of peace, whereas a winter wind during a storm can make you feel thankful for the home you are in! We hope you find this poetry inspiring!

Short Poems   /   Nature Poems   /   Poems About The Wind - related: Wind Quotes

  1. To The Winds
    Poet: Alice Cary

    Talk to my heart, O winds -
    Talk to my heart to-night;
    My spirit always finds
    With you a new delight -
    Finds always new delight,
    In your silver talk at night.

    Give me your soft embrace
    As you used to long ago,
    In your shadowy trysting-place,
    When you seemed to love me so -
    When you sweetly kissed me so.
    On the green hills, long ago.

    Come up from your cool bed.
    In the stilly twilight sea,
    For the dearest hope lies dead
    That was ever dear to me;
    Come up from your cool bed,
    And we'll talk about the dead.

    Tell me, for oft you go,
    Winds - lovely winds of night -
    About the chambers low,
    With sheets so dainty white,
    If they sleep through all the night
    In the beds so chill and white?

    Talk to me, winds, and say
    If in the grave be rest.
    For, O! Life's little day
    Is a weary one at best;
    Talk to my heart and say
    If Death will give me rest.

  2. With The Wind
    by Oliver Wendell Holmes

    I find the great thing in this world
    Is not so much where we stand,
    As in what direction we are moving.
    To reach the port of Heaven,
    We must sail sometimes with the wind
    And sometimes against it,
    But we must sail, and not drift, nor lie at anchor.

  3. The Wind May Alter
    Poet: Ralph Waldo Emerson

    'Twas one of those charmed days
    When the genius of God doth flow,
    The wind may alter twenty ways,
    A tempest cannot blow;

    It may blow north, it still is warm;
    Or south, it still is clear;
    Or east, it smells like a clover farm;
    Or west, no thunder fear.

  4. The Air
    Poet: Unknown

    The wonderful air is over me,
    And the wonderful wind is shaking the tree;
    It walks on the water and whirls the mills.
    And talks to itself on the tops of the hills.

  5. The Wind
    Poet: Robert Louis Stevenson

    I saw you toss the kites on high
    And blow the birds about the sky;
    And all around I heard you pass,
    Like ladies’ skirts across the grass-
    O wind, a-blowing all day long,
    O wind, that sings so loud a song!

    I saw the different things you did,
    But always you yourself you hid.
    I felt you push, I heard you call,
    I could not see yourself at all-
    O wind, a-blowing all day long,
    O wind, that sings so loud a song!

    O you that are so strong and cold,
    O blower, are you young or old?
    Are you a beast of field and tree,
    Or just a stronger child than me?
    O wind, a-blowing all day long,
    O wind, that sings so loud a song!

  6. What The Winds Bring
    Poet: Unknown

    Which is the wind that brings the cold?
    The North Wind, and all the snow;
    And the sheep will scamper into the fold
    When the North begins to blow.

    Which is the wind that brings the heat?
    The South Wind, and corn will grow,
    And peaches redden for you to eat,
    When the South begins to below.

    Which is the wind that brings the rain?
    The East Wind, and farmers know
    That cows come shivering up the lane
    When the East begins to blow.

    Which is the wind that brings the flowers?
    The West Wind, and soft and low
    The birdies sing in the summer hours
    When the West begins to blow.

  7. Wind And Sea
    Poet: Bayard Taylor

    The Sea is a jovial comrade;
    He laughs wherever he goes.
    His merriment shines in the dimpling lines
    That wrinkle his hale repose;
    He lays himself down at the feet of the Sun,
    And shakes all over with glee,
    And the broad-backed billows fall faint on the shore,
    In the mirth of the mighty Sea,

    But the Wind is sad and restless,
    And cursed with an inward pain;
    You may hark as you will, by valley or hill,
    But you hear him still complain,
    fle wails on the barren mountains.
    And shrieks on the wintry sea;
    He sobs in the cedar, and moans in the pine,
    And shudders all over the aspen-tree.

    Welcome are both their voices,
    And I know not which is best -
    The laughter that slips from the Ocean's lips,
    Or the comfortless Wind's unrest.
    There's a pang in all rejoicing,
    A joy in the heart of pain,
    And the Wind that saddens, the Sea that gladdens,
    Are singing- the selfsame strain!

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