There is a short poem that goes back at least to the very early 16th century — the early 1500s. That is the time of that bane of wives, Henry VIII in England (1491-1547). The poem is in the standard anthologies, though it is confusing to most readers, who invariably misunderstand it, then move quickly on to the next poem in the collection.
Here it is:
Westron wynde when wylle thow blow
The smalle rayne down can rayne
Cryst yf my love were in my Armys
And I yn my bed A gayne
There seems to be no punctuation in the original early manuscript, which sets the verse to music, and as you can see, the spelling is quite old fashioned.
Because of the lack of punctuation, some people interpret the first two lines as asking the Western wind when it will blow, because the small rain is falling; the wind will presumably stop the rain. I do not agree with that.
Others interpret the first two lines as asking the Western wind when it will blow so that the small rain may rain down. I am in this latter category, and I will soon tell you why. But in any case, it is helpful to modernize the spelling and the words a bit before we continue, like this:
Western wind, when will you blow,
That small rain down can rain?
Christ, that my love were in my arms,
And I in my bed again!
That simplifies matters quite a bit, doesn’t it? But what is the situation of the writer — why is he wondering when the west wind will blow, and why would he want rain? I shall tell you.
The west wind was considered to be the gentle wind of spring. It even has a very old name, Zephyrus. In Greek mythology, Zefyros — Zephyrus in Latin form — was one of the four directional winds. He was the west wind.
In England, where the poem was written, the west wind was thought to bring the spring. And with it came a gentle, mist-like rain, the “smalle rayne” of the poem.
If we think back to Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales, we will recall his description of spring in the southeastern part of England; he speaks of April,
Whan Zephirus eek with his swete breeth (When Zephyrus also with his sweet breath)
Inspired hath in every holt and heeth (Has inspired in every wood and heath)
The tendre croppes… (The tender shoots…).
It is then, Chaucer tells us, that people long to go on pilgrimages. But he also tells us that at this time
Aprille with his shoures soote (April with his sweet showers)
The droghte of March hath perced to the roote… (Has pierced the drought of March to the root….)
We need not understand the “drought of March” as being like the dryness of parched and cracked soil; instead think of it as a time, in the southeastern part of England, when there is little rain — the time of year when there is a “dry spell.” That is not the case in all of England, but it is the nature of the weather in the region extending roughly from London to Canterbury. There it rains less in the months of February and March.
That explains why the anonymous writer of Westron Wynde asks when the west wind will blow, so that the small rain may fall, the gentle rain that means spring has once more come, the “shoures soote” (sweet showers) of which Chaucer speaks.
So now we know what our writer is up to. He is lamenting that the weather is cold and dreary and it is affecting his spirit as well; he is feeling lonely and longing for the person he loves (or she loves, we could also say today). So he wants spring with its gentle rains to come, the April showers that bring May flowers, and he wants to be comfortably and happily in bed with his beloved again. So we know they are separated for some reason, and we feel the pain of that separation in his cry for the West wind to blow and bring the spring — the winter has been too long in his heart. We feel the strength of his desire for spring and his beloved in his ejaculaton “Cryst!” –
Christ, if my love were in my arms…!
Well, then, of course it is a “love” poem.
I hope Westron Wynde will now make more sense to you. If you look at the image below – the Birth of Venus by Sandro Botticelli — you will see his depiction of Zephyrus on the left — the winged Westron Wynde of spring, and clinging to him is Aura — the fresh breeze of morning. Around Zephyrus the roses of spring scatter.
David
