IT'S a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills.
And April's in the west wind, and daffodils.
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its a fabulous poem from a brother wanting to encourage John Masefield to return home from his wanderings - or the Great War!
It's been years since I read this poem. I wonder why I always thought that this poem was written by Wordsorth.....? ! ?
Great description of West land.