Come, soft Chinook, and lift thy glowing face 
        Above the line of yonder fir-crowned hill; 
Free ice-bound meadows, loose the frozen rill, 
        With thy warm breath and magic touch of grace.

Oh, dear Chinook, send one long, laughing glance 
        Across this glittering stretch of sudden snow; 
Set grasses greening and the rose ablow, 
        Stir purple violets from their fragrant trance.

Set April’s skies in mid-December’s world, 
        Shake April’s laughter, every pulse to thrill, 
Wake silver bird-notes on yon silent hill, 
        Let this dull sea with sun-flakes be impearled.

Come like a maiden, innocent and fair, 
        Who lightly with her delicate finger-tips 
Flings tender kisses from her parted lips— 
        Kisses that bloom to roses everywhere.

Come, soft Chinook—for gentle pity’s sake; 
        Set young hearts beating, young hearts all aglow, 
Kiss from old veins the frost and ice and snow, — 
        And like a silver bugle cry—“Awake!”

“The Chinook Wind” as it appears in Higginson’s The Voice of April-Land and Other Poems (1903).