The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound
thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, read more

The wind bloweth where it listeth, and thou hearest the sound
thereof, but canst not tell whence it cometh, and whither it
goeth: so is every one that is born of the Spirit.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.

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.

When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds read more

When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in read more

Chill airs and wintry winds! my ear
Has grown familiar with your song;
I hear it in the opening year,
I listen, and it cheers me long.

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.

An ill wind that bloweth no man good--
The blower of which blast is she.

An ill wind that bloweth no man good--
The blower of which blast is she.

The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
read more

The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
Of its tunes amongst the leaves?
Oh, is it from the waters,
Or from the long, tall grass?
Or is it from the hollow rocks
Through which its breathings pass?

Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
read more

Wind of the sunny south! oh, still delay
In the gay woods and in the golden air,
Like to a good old age released from care,
Journeying, in long serenity, away.
In such a bright, late quiet, would that I
Might wear out life like thee, mid bowers and brooks,
And, dearer yet, the sunshine of kind looks,
And music of kind voices ever nigh;
And when my last sand twinkled in the glass,
Pass silently from men as thou dost pass.