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Spring Wind in London

I Blow across the stagnant world,

I blow across the sea,

For me, the sailor's flag unfurled,

For me, the uprooted tree.

My challenge to the world is hurled;

The world must bow to me.

I drive the clouds across the sky,

I huddle them like sheep;

Merciless shepherd-dog am

And shepherd-watch I keep.

If in the quiet vales they lieI blow them up the steep.

Lo!  In the tree-tops do I hide,

In every living thing;

On the moon's yellow wings I glide,

On the wild rose I swing;

On the sea-horse's back I ride,

And what then do I bring?

And when a little child is illI pause, and with my handI wave the window curtain's

That he may

Outside the wind is blowing still;…It is a pleasant land.

O stranger in a foreign place,

See what I bring to you.

This rain—is tears upon your face;

I tell you—tell you trueI came from that forgotten

Where once the wattle grew,—All the wild sweetness of the

Tangled against the wall.

It was that magic, silent hour….

The branches grew so

They twined themselves into a bower.

The sun shown… and the

Of yellow blossom on the grass!

You feel that golden rain?

Both of you could not hold, alas,(both of you tried, in vain)A memory, stranger.  So I pass….

It will not come again

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Katherine Mansfield

Kathleen Mansfield Murry (née Beauchamp; 14 October 1888 – 9 January 1923) was a prominent modernist writer who was born and brought up in New Z…

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