Chapter 3
A gentle wind hath risen
Out of the heated day.
May my soul be forgiven
Its dreams! O let me pray
That this freshening hour
May cling to memory
And have years after power
To live again in me!
'Tis very little, I know,
But it is happiness,
And the hours are but few
That we can really bless.
They are hours like this, freed
From belonging to thought,
When we have nought to heed
Save a breeze that is nought.
Let me therefore breathe in
Into my memory
This hour, and may it begin
Again whenever I see
My heart grow heavy and hot,
My thoughts grow close and late
O soft breeze, fan my thought!
O calmness, brush my fate!