I am yours as the summer air at evening is
Possessed by the scent of linden blossoms,

As the snowcap gleams with light
Lent it by the brimming moon.

Without you I'd be an unleafed tree
Blasted in a bleakness with no Spring.

Your love is the weather of my being.
What is an island without the sea?

If I were but the west wind, 

   I would follow you; 

Cross a hundred hills to find 

   Your world of green and blue;

In your pine wood linger,

   Whisper to you there 

Stories old and strange, and finger

   Softly your bright hair.