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Alice Guerin Crist (Элис Гуерин Крист) Brother Wind “I thank my god for brother wind,” So prayed St. Francis long ago In words of simple, joyous praise, That fill my heart with sudden glow As-braced by winter’s icy draught- With singing soul, and strengthened mind, I humbly join the good Saint’s prayer Thank my God for “Brother Wind.” For Brother Wind, who, whispering soft Brings subtlest perfume on his wings, The violet scent of childhood days, The lost delight in simple things; For Brother wind, who whistling keen O’er open plain and storm-scarred hill, Cleanses from mind, and heart, and brain, All thoughts of wrong, and ancient ill. Who wafts from scarce-stirred lily beds Incense of early purity, Or wakes to life our laggard souls With stinging fragrance of the sea. Echoes of Heaven, far-off and faint For weary heart and tired mind, Sweet long-lost memories, old and quaint- These are the gifts of Brother Wind. Ah! Dear St. Francis, let me kneel Before thy shrine with joyous mind Joining my humble, grateful prayer, Thanking our God for Brother Wind. Alice Guerin Crist's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1270 |
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