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Prayer to the Winds

by Theodore Watts-Dunton

 

Hear us, ye winds! From where the north-wind strows
  Blossoms that crown 'the King of Wisdom's' Tomb,
  The trees here planted bring remembered bloom,
Dreaming in seed of Love's ancestral rose,
To meadows where a braver north-wind blows
  O'er greener grass, o'er hedge-rose, may and broom,
  And all that make East England's field-perfume
Dearer than any fragance Persia grows.

Hear us, ye winds North, East, and West, and South!
This granite covers him whose golden mouth
  Made wiser ev'n the Word of Wisdom's King:
Blow softly over Omar's Western herald
  Till roses rich of Omar's dust shall spring
From richer dust of Suffolk's rare FitzGerald.
 
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