Masefield recalls the sight of the west lands and the old brown hills when viewed from his native hometown. Tears of joy gather in his eyes as he remembers the manner of how the west wind blew though he can never hear it come. He can feel the warm wind blowing from the west and carries with it the sounds that are full of birds’ songs. The spirit of the mid-spring of April is felt when the west wind blows and the daffodils dance.
The west lands projected by the west wind go beyond an imaginary paradise. The vast area of apple orchards produces the fresh air with an aroma of wine. There is also a vast stretch of meadow that is covered with clean, cool and deep green grass. In the day time there are plenty of thrushes singing from their nests; whistling and singing with a clear, soft note like that of a flute. This is best suited for men like him who are totally worn down and their bodies, minds, hearts and souls are tired. Here they may lie and rest as long as they desire.
The west wind declares that it is the blossoming time of April and the white cleansing of May. The summer rain is soft and warm. The sun is bright and shining. It gives a wake-up call to him to come home from wherever he is and take a break from life’s demanding quest.
In the atmosphere above the earth is the clear blue sky with only a few white clouds. The bright sunny days are already here and many a times accompanied by the warm and soft summer rain. The wild bees fly about with care-free hearts to see the merry spirit of spring again. The young corn has become green and everywhere around the field, the rabbits run in delight. Truly such a marvelous sight is like a song to any man’s soul and fire to any man’s brain.
In the west lands above the green wheat, there are innumerable larks singing. The west wind carries with it the sound of music that is full of bird’s cries. Masefield assures all his friends a quiet rest for their tired feet,...