A poet of one mood in all my lays, 
Ranging all life to sing one only love, 
Like a west wind across the world I move, 
Sweeping my harp of floods mine own wild ways. 
The countries change, but not the west-wind days 
Which are my songs. My soft skies shine above, 
And on all seas the colours of a dove, 
And on all fields a flash of silver greys. 
I made the whole world answer to my art 
And sweet monotonous meanings. In your ears 
I change not ever, bearing, for my part, 
One thought that is the treasure of my years- 
A small cloud full of rain upon my heart 
And in mine arms, clasped, like a child in tears.