O There Is Blessing In This Gentle Breeze

O there is blessing in this gentle breeze,
A visitant that while it fans my cheek
Doth seem half-conscious of the joy it brings
From the green fields, and from yon azure sky.

~ William Wordsworth

The Muezzin

The Muezzin
by Vita Sackville-West
Read by Elizabeth Klett

Above the city at his feet,
Above the dome, above the sea,
He rises unconfined and free
To break upon the noonday heat.

He turns around the parapet,
Black-robed against the marble tower;
His singing gains or loses power
In pacing round the minaret.

A brother to the singing birds
He never knew restraining walls,
But freely rises, freely falls
The rhythm of the sacred words.

I would that it to me were given
To climb each day the muezzin’s stair
And in the warm and silent air
To sing my heart out into Heaven.