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Western Wind
Anonymous

Western Wind, when will thou blow,
The small rain down can rain?
Christ! if my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!
— 

Perhaps because I have a serious something for the rain, perhaps because I love internal rhymes. Like the alliteration in this poem. These are some of my assumed reasons for why I can never get enough of “Western Wind.” It reminds me a little of Pound’s “In a Station of the Metro,” however the feeling here is the exact opposite. I love the wildness, rawness, loneliness that “Western Wind” exudes. Reading it always leaves me feeling breathless.

—
Jane