C.N. Douglas, comp. Forty Thousand Quotations: Prose and Poetical. 1917.

Zephyrs

Soft is the strain when zephyr gently blows.

Pope.

Lull’d by soft zephyrs thro’ the broken pane.

Pope.

The balmy zephyrs, silent since her death,
Lament the ceasing of a sweeter breath.

Pope.

Soft o’er the shrouds aerial whispers breathe,
That seemed but zephyrs to the train beneath.

Pope.

Fair laughs the morn, and soft the zephyr blows.

Gray.

Let Zephyr only breathe
And with her tresses play.

Drummond.

And on the balmy zephyrs tranquil rest
The silver clouds.

Keats.

And soften’d sounds along the waters die:
Smooth flow the waves, the zephyrs gently play.

Pope.

And soon
Their hushing dances languished to a stand,
Like midnight leaves when, as the Zephyrs swoon,
All on their drooping stems they sink unfanned.

Hood.