"I am not one who was born in the custody of wisdom. I am one who is fond of olden times and intense in quest of the sacred knowing of the ancients." Gustave Courbet

11 April 2022

Readiest.

Wyeth, April Wind, 1954


The SONG of the FOUR WINDS

          Wind from the north: the young spring day
          Is pleasant on the sunny mead;
          Tho' merry harps at evening play;
          The dance gay youths and maidens lead:
          The thrush makes chorus from the thorn:
          The mighty drinker fills his horn.

          Wind from the east: the shore is still;
          The mountain-clouds fly tow'rds the sea;
          The ice is on the winter-rill;
          The great hall fire is blazing free:
          The prince's circling feast is spread:
          Drink fills with fumes the brainless head.

          Wind from the south: in summer shade
          'Tis sweet to hear the loud harp ring;
          Sweet is the step of comely maid,
          Who to the bard a cup doth bring:
          The black crow flies where carrion lies:
          Where pignuts lurk, the swine will work.

          Wind from the west: the autumnal deep
          Rolls on the shore its billowy pride:
          He, who the rampart's watch must keep,
          Will mark with awe the rising tide:
          The high springtide, that bursts its mound,
          May roll o'er miles of level ground.
          Wind from the west: the mighty wave
          Of ocean bounds o'er rock and sand;
          The foaming surges roar and rave
          Against the bulwarks of the land:
          When waves are rough, and winds are high,
          Good is the land that's high and dry.
          Wind from the west: the storm-clouds rise;
          The breakers rave; the whirlblasts roar;
          The mingled rage of the seas and skies
          Bursts on the low and lonely shore:
          When safety's far, and danger nigh,
          Swift feet the readiest aid supply.

          Wind from the west---

Thomas Love Peacock

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