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The wind breathes not, and the wave Walks softly as above a grave. - Philip James Bailey Thou wind! Which art the unseen similitude of God The Spirit, His most meet and mightiest sign. - Philip James Bailey The hushed winds wail with feeble moan Like infant charity. - Joanna Baillie, Orra (act III, sc. 1, The Chough and Crow) 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! - John Bancks (Banks), To Boreas In measure, when it shooteth forth, thou wilt debate with it: he stayeth his rough wind in the day of the east wind. - Bible, Isaiah (ch. XXVIII, v. 8) 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. - Bible, John (ch. III, v. 8) Bless the Lord, O my soul. O Lord my God, thou art very great; thou art clothed with honour and majesty. Who coverest thyself with light as with a garment: who stretches out the heavens like a curtain: Who layeth the beams of his chambers in the waters: who maketh the clouds his chariot: who walketh upon the wings of the wind: Who maketh his angels spirits; his ministers a flaming fire: Who laid the foundations of the earth, that it should not be removed for ever. - Bible, Psalms (ch. CIV, v. 1-5) There is strange music in the stirring wind! - William Lisle Bowles A melancholy sound is in the air, A deep sigh in the distance, a shrill wail Around my dwelling. 'Tis the Wind of night. - William Cullen Bryant Do not the bright June roses blow To meet thy kiss at morning hours? - William Cullen Bryant Full fast the leaves are dropping Before that wandering breath. - William Cullen Bryant I hear the howl of the wind that brings The long drear storm on its heavy wings. - William Cullen Bryant Is not thy home among the flowers? - William Cullen Bryant The hushed winds their Sabbath keep. - William Cullen Bryant Ye winds ye unseen currents of the air, Softly ye played a few brief hours ago; Ye bore the murmuring bee; ye tossed the air O'er maiden cheeks, that took a fresher glow; Ye rolled the round white cloud through depths of blue; Ye shook from shaded flowers the lingering dew; Before you the catalpa's blossoms flew, Light blossoms, dropping on the grass like snow. - William Cullen Bryant 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. - William Cullen Bryant, Evening Wind (st. 4) Where hast thou wandered. gentle gale, to find The perfumes thou dost bring? - William Cullen Bryant, May Evening (st. 2) 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. - William Cullen Bryant, October (l. 5) 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. - William Cullen Bryant, The Wind and Stream As winds come lightly whispering from the West, Kissing, not ruffling, the blue deep's serene. - Lord Byron (George Gordon Noel Byron), Childe Harold (canto II, st. 70) When the stormy winds do blow; When the battle rages loud and long, And the stormy winds do blow. - Thomas Campbell, Ye Mariners of England 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. - John Vance Cheney, The way of it The winds of winter wailing through the woods; The mighty laughter of the vernal floods. - Abraham Coles The sobbing wind is fierce and strong; its cry is like a human wail. - Susan Coolidge (pseudonym of Sarah Chauncey Woolsey) How silent are the winds! - Barry Cornwall (pseudonym of Bryan Waller Procter) Displaying page 1 of 4 for this topic: Next >> [1] 2 3 4
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