Classic Poem

Softly the little wind goes by,
A whisper,—nothing more;
Some message from the azure sky
Brought down to earth's green door.

Fragrant and fresh the wonder-word,
But what it means, who knows?
Only the butterfly, the bird,
The leaf, the grass and rose.

Theirs the divine felicity,
The gift of wisdom rare,
The melody, the mystery,
The secret of the air.