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PRAIRIE WINDS.
I love all things that God has made
That show His ordered care and might,
But most, I think, I love the wind
That blows at night.
It holds so much of mystery,
Like that in mine own restless heart—
Brother to me and well-beloved,
Wind, thou art!
Across these unresisting plains
It sweeps at times with force sublime,
And always like the wraith it seems
Of happier clime.
For in the South its home has been,
A sun-kissed, warm and fertile land,
Where Nature pours her treasure from
Unstinting hand.
