THE buds of bloom are opening on the pear;
The plum with promised blossom seems alive.
Oh, if these tender things can live and thrive,
There will be wealth of fruitage and to spare.
Forbear thy wrath, good Aeolus, forbear;
If thou and thy prerogative survive.
For Auster and for Boreas contrive
A prison in thy cave’s remotest lair.
Keep cruel Eurus in a dungeon fast,
And only loose the gentlest of thy race,
Mild Zephyrus, to breathe upon the face
Of spring, until the setting-time is past;
And then, if not unkindly thou wouldst be,
Forget for months to set his brothers free.
(Robert Henry Forster)
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Based on Topics: Faces Poems, Past Poems, Spring Poems, Anger PoemsBased on Keywords: eurus, zephyrus, aeolus, auster