A Summer Wind

O wind, thou hast thy kingdom in the trees, And all thy royalties Sweep through the land to-day. It is mid June, And thou, with all thy instruments in tune, Thine orchestra Of heaving fields and heavy swinging fir, Strikest a lay That doth rehearse Her ancient freedom to the universe. All other sound in awe Repeats its law: The bird is mute; the sea Sucks up its waves; from rain The burthened clouds refrain, To listen to thee in thy leafery, Thou unconfined, Lavish, large, soothing, refluent summer wind.