Wind-Song

O, thou gentle wind

Who wakes the buds of spring

And spills on earth the sweet perfume

That Heaven's flowers bring,

Caress the winter's fields

To fragrant blossoming,

With zephyr harmonies benign

Make the lyres sing.

O fierce wind of the west

Blow our sins away

Soothe the torn earth's troubled breast

With healing breeze, we pray.

Thy violent storms abate

Thy gales of anger cease

All human error dissipate

In thy soothing air of peace.