Vayu The Wind

A poem by Violet Nicolson, Lawrence Hope, Adela Florence Cory Nicolson (1865 – 1904)

Ah, Wind, I have always loved thee

Since those far off nights

When I lay beneath the vines

A prey to strange delights,

For among my tresses

Thy soft caresses

Were sweet as a lover’s to me.

Later thou grewest more wanton, or I more shy,

And after the bath I drew my garments close,

Fearing thy soft persuasion amongst my hair

When thou camest fresh with the scent of some ruffled rose.

Ah, Wind, thou hast lain with the Desert,

I know her savour well,

And the spices wherewith she scents her breasts–

She who has known such countless lovers

Yet rarely borne a city among her sands–

Thou comest as one from a night of love,

Thy breath is broken and hard,–

Bringing echoes of lonely things,

Vast and cruel, that the soft and golden sands

Buried beneath thin ripples so long ago.

Ah, Wind, thou hast given me lovely things,

The scent of a thousand flowers,

And the heavy perfume of pollen-laden fields,

Strange snatches of wild song from the heart of the dark Bazaar

That thrilled to my very core,

Till I threw the sheet aside and rose to follow,–

But whither, or what?

Also, Wind, thou broughtest the breath of the sea,

The sound of its myriad waves.

And in nights when I lay on the lonely sands

Stretching mine arms to thee,

Thou gavest me something–faint and vast and sweet,

Something ineffable, wistful, from far away,

Elsewhere–Beyond–

And thou wast kind to me in my times of love,

Cooling my lips

That my lover wore away,

While, wafting the scent from his divided hair,

Thou show’dst the stars between

Far away, and eclipsed by his burning eyes

Even the stars.

And now I almost foresee the place and the hour

When I shall open my dying lips to thee

And receive a last cool kiss.

Afterwards, Wind, since I have always loved thee,–

Whirl my dust to the scented heart of a moghra flower,

_His_ flower, but, ah, thou knowest,–

So often thy kisses have mingled with his and mine.

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Poems in English 

• Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 75: So are you to my thoughts as food to life by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor the Prophetic Soul by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CVI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CLI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CL by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIX by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIV by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CIII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CII by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet CI by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet C by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 9: Is it for fear to wet a widow’s eye by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare
• Sonnet 98: From you have I been absent in the spring by William Shakespeare by William Shakespeare

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