English poem
The South-west Wind
by Geoffrey Bache Smith (1894–1916)
The south-west wind has blown his fill, And vanished with departing day: The air is warm, and very still, And soft as silks of far Cathay.
This is a night when spirits stray. Their wan limbs bear them where they will; They wring their pallid hands alway, Seeing the lights upon the hill.