The Spirit of the Wind
What is the wind, the untamed wind That wildly sounds its shrilling call?It roams the hills with stealthy feet, Or, maddened to a frenzied fear and dizzy anger,Fierce and cruel, it rushes headlong to the sun; But long before the heights attainedThe conquered host sinks back on earth; Unconquered there, a kingdom bondHolds the wind to land and sea; What ecstasy is in its flight,What nameless soul, what wild delight, Could we but mount its fleeting arms,And ride the sea and sky and all.
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