To The Western Wind.

A poem by Robert Herrick

Sweet western wind, whose luck it is,
Made rival with the air,
To give Perenna's lip a kiss,
And fan her wanton hair.

Bring me but one, I'll promise thee,
Instead of common showers,
Thy wings shall be embalm'd by me,
And all beset with flowers.

Reader Comments

Tell us what you think of 'To The Western Wind.' by Robert Herrick

comments powered by Disqus

Home | Search | About this website | Contact | Privacy Policy