This air's a lovely thing: it blows
Softer than any kisses are;
Touches my cheek like a wet rose
Drenched in all sweetness, near and far.
There's heather in it, miles on miles,
Rough sweetness of great seas that break
On Achill cliffs and Clew's dear isles;
Oh many a mountain, many a lake!
What soft invisible Loving clings
About my neck and lifts my hair
The Eternal Love in these wild wings
Meets me and clasps me everywhere.
Thou mad'st for me this air, this wind,
These heavenly sweets for me, for me
That I might live and thrive, O kind!
Fed on the very Breath of Thee.
