Spring breezes over the blue,

now lightly frolicking in some tropic bay,

go forth to meet her way,

for here the spell hath won and dream is true.

O happy wind, thou that in her warm hair

mayst rest and play!

could I but breathe all longing into thee,

so were thy viewless wing

as flame or thought, hastening her shining way.

And now I bid thee bring

tenderly hither over a subject sea

that golden one whose grace hath made me king,

and, soon to glad my gaze at shut of day,

loosen’d in happy air

her charmed hair.