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The craftsman
Volume XXXI, Number 3 (December 1916)

Trine, Grace Steele Hyde
"The breeze comes fresh",   p. 267 PDF (200.1 KB)


Page 267


"THE BREEZE COMES FRESH": BY GRACE
STEELE HYDE TRINE
            You drop your cares, like a weary pack,
The city you left behind
Seems far away,-and the clear sweet air
That greets you over the rise
Is not of earth-it cannot be
It comes from the farthest skies I
A mingled sweetness of hills and shore
Fused into something rare,-
Breath of the mountains, breath of the sea,
Nectar-yet only air! . . .
Now look you South where the cities are,
And flowing swift between,
Swept by the winds and washed by the tides
And bordered by hills of green
The storied, majestic Hudson goes
To greet its Mother, the sea;
A vision of beauty by day and night
Far beyond Tappan Zee.
Beauty of river, of hills and trees,
Beauty of storm and of sun,
Beauty of clouds and the hosts of the stars
And joy in the heart of one!
From farthest horizons I hear your call
Mt. Airy, where winds blow free I
Oh, what have you done to my gypsy heart,
To my gypsy feet, and me !
267
ERIE'S a winding road, and a sharp turn
&s you near the top of the hill;
]'he breeze comes fresh and you take deep breath,-
rhe world seems hushed and still.
l'he thrushes sing and the orioles flash,-
You bare your head to the wind,


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