THE wind comes from the west to-night; <br /> So sweetly down the lane he bloweth <br />Upon my lips, with pure delight, <br /> From head to foot my body gloweth. <br /> <br />Where did the wind, the magic find <br /> To charm me thus? say, heart that knoweth! <br />'Within a rose on which he blows <br /> Before upon thy lips he bloweth!'<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-secret-78/
