The Happy Wind
by Ninette M. Isowater
A Happy little southern wind
Went wandering away;
It was the dearest little wind
That ever went astray.
It touched the city's outer edge,
Then swiftly turned aside,
For it had heard that little winds,
Caught by the hot streets, died.
It wend along a country lane,
And through the meadows fair;
It lifted up a horse's mane,
And stirred a baby's hair.
It lingered in a quiet place
Where tall, fair lilies grow;
When moon drew near, it hid itself
Where pines stand in a row.
It slept until the shadows turned,
Then, dancing, went its way;
No other little wind that blew
Had such a pleasant day.
