This is a breath of summer wind
  That comes—we know not how—that goes
As softly,—leaving us behind,
  Pleased with a smell of vine and rose.

Poet, shall this be all thy word?
  Blow on us with a bolder breeze,
Until we rise, as having heard
  The sob, the song of far-off seas.

Blow in thy shell until thou draw,
  From...