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Perhaps the wind
Wails so in winter for the summer's dead,
And all sad sounds are nature's read more
Perhaps the wind
Wails so in winter for the summer's dead,
And all sad sounds are nature's funeral cries
For what has been and is not.
The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves,
Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives;
read more
The wind is awake, pretty leave, pretty leaves,
Heed not what he says, he deceives, he deceives;
Over and over
To the lowly clover
He has lisped the same love (and forgotten it, too).
He will be lisping and pledging to you.
The faint old man shall lean his silver head
To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
read more
The faint old man shall lean his silver head
To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep,
And dry the moistened curls that overspread
His temples, while his breathing grows more deep.
Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great;
thou art clothed with honour read more
Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great;
thou art clothed with honour and majesty.
Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretches
out the heavens like a curtain:
Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh
the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind:
Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire:
Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be
removed for ever.
To a crazy ship all winds are contrary.
To a crazy ship all winds are contrary.
Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find
The perfumes thou dost bring?
Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find
The perfumes thou dost bring?
The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of read more
The winds that never moderation knew,
Afraid to blow too much, too faintly blew;
Or out of breath with joy, could not enlarge
Their straighten'd lungs or conscious of their charge.
A breeze came wandering from the sky,
Light as the whispers of a dream;
He put the read more
A breeze came wandering from the sky,
Light as the whispers of a dream;
He put the o'erhanging grasses by,
And softly stooped to kiss the stream,
The pretty stream, the flattered stream,
The shy, yet unreluctant stream.
In measure, when it shooteth forth, thou wilt debate with it: he
stayeth his rough wind in the day read more
In measure, when it shooteth forth, thou wilt debate with it: he
stayeth his rough wind in the day of the east wind.