Messengers

The wind, that gives the rose a kiss, With murmured music of the south, Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this;-- The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,-- Hath kissed the red rose of her mouth.

The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, And echoes in a grottoed place, Hath held a fairer thing than these;-- The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, Hath held the image of her face.

O happy wind! O happy brook! What message from her do you bear?-- “We bear from her her kiss and look--” O happy wind! O happy brook!-- “That blessed us unaware.”