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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 hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
The hushed winds wail with feeble moan
Like infant charity.
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.
The wind, the wandering wind
Of the golden summer eyes--
Whence is the thrilling magic
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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?
But certain winds will make men's temper bad.
But certain winds will make men's temper bad.
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?
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.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
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I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.