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The wind's in the east. . . . I am always conscious of an
uncomfortable sensation now and then read more
The wind's in the east. . . . I am always conscious of an
uncomfortable sensation now and then when the wind is blowing in
the east.
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.
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 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.
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
read more
I hear the wind among the trees
Playing the celestial symphonies;
I see the branches downward bent,
Like keys of some great instrument.
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears read more
It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of birds' cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my eyes.
For it comes from the west lands, the old brown hills,
And April's in the West wind, and daffodils.
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?
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.