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.
From The Poems of Sophie Jewett (Thomas Y. Crowell & Co., 1910) by Sophie Jewett. Copyright © Thomas Y. Crowell & Co. This poem is in the public domain.