WHITHER?Dec. 16, 1905
"Whither, wind, whither and whence?" I said,
As the blast rushed on its way,
"The forest waves its branches sere,
The pine-trees murmur, 'Linger here,'"
But the tempest answered, "Nay—
From an ether pure as an angel's face,
The world seems petty and small and base,
And I haste to the quiet of Infinite Space."
As the blast rushed on its way,
"The forest waves its branches sere,
The pine-trees murmur, 'Linger here,'"
But the tempest answered, "Nay—
From an ether pure as an angel's face,
The world seems petty and small and base,
And I haste to the quiet of Infinite Space."
"Whither, stream, whither and whence?" I asked,
As I marked its ceaseless flow,
"Oh, turbulent, foaming, excited brook,
A moment pause in some sheltered nook,"
But the stream replied, "Not so—
From caverns too deep for human quest,
I haste through these confines of dull unrest
In search of the Ocean's mighty breast."
As I marked its ceaseless flow,
"Oh, turbulent, foaming, excited brook,
A moment pause in some sheltered nook,"
But the stream replied, "Not so—
From caverns too deep for human quest,
I haste through these confines of dull unrest
In search of the Ocean's mighty breast."
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