Messengers

by Madison Julius Cawein

The wind, that gives the rose a kiss
With murmured music of the south,
Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this, --
The wind, that gives the rose a kiss --
The perfume of her mouth.

The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,
And echoes in a grottoed place,
Hath held a fairer thing than these, --
The brook, that mirrors skies and trees, --
The image of her face.

O happy wind! O happy brook!
So dear before, so free of cares!
How dearer since her kiss and look, --
O happy wind! O happy brook! --
Have blessed you unawares!