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.