March Poetry The Wind by Amy Lowell

He shouts in the sails of the ships at sea, 
He steals the down from the honeybee, 
He makes the forest trees rustle and sing, 
He twirls my kite till it breaks its string. 
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind, 
Whistling, howling, rainy wind, 
North, South, East and West, 
Each is the wind I like the best. 
He calls up the fog and hides the hills, 
He whirls the wings of the great windmills, 
The weathercocks love him and turn to discover 
His whereabouts -- but he's gone, the rover! 
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind, 
Whistling, howling, rainy wind, 
North, South, East and West, 
Each is the wind I like the best. 

The pine trees toss him their cones with glee, 
The flowers bend low in courtesy, 
Each wave flings up a shower of pearls, 
The flag in front of the school unfurls. 
Laughing, dancing, sunny wind,