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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.
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.
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 hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
The wind moans, like a long wail from some despairing soul shut
out in the awful storm!
The wind moans, like a long wail from some despairing soul shut
out in the awful storm!
A litle wind kindles; much puts out the fire.
[A little wind kindles; much puts out the fire.]
A litle wind kindles; much puts out the fire.
[A little wind kindles; much puts out the fire.]
Blow, Boreas, foe to human kind!
Blow, blustering, freezing, piercing wind!
Blow, that thy force I may read more
Blow, Boreas, foe to human kind!
Blow, blustering, freezing, piercing wind!
Blow, that thy force I may rehearse,
While all my thoughts congeal to verse!
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.
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?