“Western wind, when wilt thou blow?
The small rain down can rain.
Christ, that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again.”
Anonymous, “Western Wind”
One of the oldest poems extant in the English language and surely the first that is neither balladic nor courtly. A gentle half-lament, it is wistful but somehow resolute and hopeful. Although I’ve never seen attribution, I think that Bernstein referenced “Western Wind” in the opening song of his great musical “On The Town”.