"When the wind is in the east,

'T is neither good for man nor beast;

When the wind is in the north,

The skillful fisher goes not forth;

When the wind is in the south,

It blows the bait in the fishes' mouth;

When the wind is in the west,

Then't is at the very best."

L ife, like the earth, to the east doth run,

Turning her face to the face of the sun.

The wind that is contrary, as she goes,

Is always the bitterest wind that blows;

Smiting the kiss of the shining away,

And beating backward the beautiful day.

The wind that comes from the icy pole

Shutteth up hope in the human soul;

Chiding the heart, and forbidding the will,

And blasting our very beginnings with ill.

Oh, the wind of the north, on its terrible

path,

Is the wind of wreck, and despair, and

wrath!

The breath that blows from the climes of

ease,

From the isles of spice and the bread-fruit

trees,

With its unearned flavors to fill the mouth;

The zephyr that sends from the idle south

Its soft beguiling and treacherous touch,—

Let the soul in her struggle be shy of

such!

But the wind that springs from the hind-

ward side,

And as earth rolls under sweeps over the

tide;

The gust that is vigorous, brave, and true,

Backing you up in whatever you do,

Keen and impelling, the wind of the west,—

Ah, well saith the legend, that breeze is the

best.