O wind of God, that blowest in the mind, br Blow, blow and wake the gentle spring in me; br Blow, swifter blow, a strong warm summer wind, br Till all the flowers with eyes come out to see; br Blow till the fruit hangs red on every tree, br And our high-soaring song-larks meet thy dove- br High the imperfect soars, descends the perfect love! br br Blow not the less though winter cometh then; br Blow, wind of God, blow hither changes keen; br Let the spring creep into the ground again, br The flowers close all their eyes and not be seen: br All lives in thee that ever once hath been! br Blow, fill my upper air with icy storms; br Breathe cold, O wind of God, and kill my cankerworms.