Messengers

The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,
With murmured music of the south,
Hath kissed a sweeter thing than this;--
The wind, that gives the rose a kiss,--
Hath kissed the red rose of her mouth.

The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,
And echoes in a grottoed place,
Hath held a fairer thing than these;--
The brook, that mirrors skies and trees,
Hath held the image of her face.

O happy wind! O happy brook!
What message from her do you bear?--
“We bear from her her kiss and look--”
O happy wind! O happy brook!--
“That blessed us unaware.”