Ye winds, ye unseen currents of the air,
Softly ye played a few brief hours ago;
Ye bore the murmuring bee; ye tossed the hair
O’er maiden cheeks, that took a fresher glow;
Ye rolled the round white cloud through depths of blue;
Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew;
Before you the catalpa’s blossoms flew,
Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow.
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Chicago: William Cullen Bryant, "I," The Winds Original Sources, accessed July 1, 2025, http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=R36IWPFY6AF1WG1.
MLA: Bryant, William Cullen. "I." The Winds, Original Sources. 1 Jul. 2025. http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=R36IWPFY6AF1WG1.
Harvard: Bryant, WC, 'I' in The Winds. Original Sources, retrieved 1 July 2025, from http://www.originalsources.com/Document.aspx?DocID=R36IWPFY6AF1WG1.