Explore "What the west wind whispers" by Bliss Carman on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
What the west wind whispers / At the end of summer, / When the barley harvest / Ripens to the sickle, / Who can tell?
What means the fine music / Of the dry cicada, / Through the long noon hours / Of the autumn stillness, / Who can say?
How the grape ungathered / With its bloom of blueness / Greatens on the trellis / Of the brick-walled garden, / Who can know?
Yet I, too, am greatened, / Keep the note of gladness, / Travel by the wind's road, / Through this autumn leisure, -- / By thy love.