A Poet Of One Mood

A poet of one mood in all my lays,

Ranging all life to sing one only love,

Like a west wind across the world I move,

Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways.

The countries change, but not the west-wind days

Which are my songs. My soft skies shine above,

And on all seas the colours of a dove,

And on all fields a flash of silver greys.

I made the whole world answer to my art

And sweet monotonous meanings. In your ears

I change not ever, bearing, for my part,

One thought that is the treasure of my years-

A small cloud full of rain upon my heart

And in mine arms, clasped, like a child in tears.