{"id":819,"date":"2011-01-16T03:52:46","date_gmt":"2011-01-16T03:52:46","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/?p=819"},"modified":"2017-07-11T03:56:52","modified_gmt":"2017-07-11T03:56:52","slug":"the-west-wind-by-william-cullen-bryant","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/poemeveryday\/the-west-wind-by-william-cullen-bryant\/","title":{"rendered":"The West Wind by William Cullen Bryant"},"content":{"rendered":"

 <\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>The West Wind<\/h1>\n

by William Cullen Bryant<\/p>\n

It’s a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries;
\nI never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
\nFor it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
\nAnd April’s in the west wind, and daffodils.<\/p>\n

It’s a fine land, the west land, for hearts as tired as mine,
\nApple orchards blossom there, and the air’s like wine.
\nThere is cool green grass there, where men may lie at rest,
\nAnd the thrushes are in song there, fluting from the nest.<\/p>\n

“Will ye not come home brother? ye have been long away,
\nIt’s April, and blossom time, and white is the may;
\nAnd bright is the sun brother, and warm is the rain,–
\nWill ye not come home, brother, home to us again?<\/p>\n

“The young corn is green, brother, where the rabbits run.
\nIt’s blue sky, and white clouds, and warm rain and sun.
\nIt’s song to a man’s soul, brother, fire to a man’s brain,
\nTo hear the wild bees and see the merry spring again.<\/p>\n

“Larks are singing in the west, brother, above the green wheat,
\nSo will ye not come home, brother, and rest your tired feet?
\nI’ve a balm for bruised hearts, brother, sleep for aching eyes,”
\nSays the warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries.<\/p>\n

It’s the white road westwards is the road I must tread
\nTo the green grass, the cool grass, and rest for heart and head,
\nTo the violets, and the warm hearts, and the thrushes’ song,
\nIn the fine land, the west land, the land where I belong.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

  The West Wind by William Cullen Bryant It’s a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds’ cries; I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes. For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills. And April’s in the west wind, and daffodils. It’s a fine land, the…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,414,413],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-819","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-1800s","category-classic-poems","category-family-poems"],"aioseo_notices":[],"aioseo_head":"\n\t\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t\n\t\t