Summer Wind Poem by Jean Mallette

Were I to be a summer wind,
Fair Heaven's heights I would descend
And spread my wings aloft the crests
Of those fond mountains I love best.
I'd sweep across the seven seas,
Upon their sleeping depths I'd sneeze,
Then watch the angered waves swell high
From out the chasms where they lie.
I'd skit along the snowy foam
That climbs the shores the breakers roam;
I'd thrust the waves against the cliffs;
I'd heave the ships; I'd toss the skiffs;
I'd beat the lofty sails to shreads;
Then feign the way the tempest treads
And lift my voice up fierce and loud
To bellow at the passing crowd.
And then I'd fill my lungs once more
And heave myself unto the shore
Where there I'd whiff the sand about
As to the world I'd gaily shout,
'Hurah! , Hurah! , I am the wind,
And all the earth must 'neath me bend! '
On to the cliffs above I'd sail;
Their lofty banks I'd swiftly scale,
Then onward to the pines that grow
Atop those sloping banks, I'd blow.
Row after row of green I'd tread
Whilst shaking out the forest bed,
Whilst waking up the woodland deep
From out its dark, nocturnal sleep.
And then with one broad, surging blast,
I'd turn my wings upward at last
And choose a range both near and wide-
Ah, yes, I'd seek the countryside!
Across the fair, warm summer night,
With subtleness I'd tend my flight;
I'd tone myself down to a breeze,
Then through the open windows, ease
To touch the locks of sleeping youths,
Or fondle the words from lovers' mouths,
Or sing to the poet who knows I'm there;
Who relishes my moves with artistic care.
Then, slowly, I'd slip from out the room
Back to the dark and silent gloom,
To ride the starway up from earth,
Back to the place of heavenly birth.
But for the jealous winter wind,
I'd leave a hearty laugh behind,
'At last, when you shall tread this way,
You'll find within, no place to stay.
For here the windows will be bound,
Closed tight to your outrageous sounds.
Those who would welcome summer's wind
Will find in you no soothing friend;
Without a doubt, they'll turn you out
And though you may resolve to pout,
You'll clamour here, my foe, in vain
Through winds, and snow, and ice, and rain! '
Oh, were I to be a summer wind
Fair Heaven's heights I'd then ascend,
With wings propelled by love of play-
Of swiftness, grace, and carefree ways.
I'd taunt the bored stiff trees once more,
And shove the waters to the shore;
I'd say 'Farewell until next spring
When from afar you'll hear me sing
From o'er the mountains, o'er the sea
And o'er the heavens where now I flee! '