Loud wind, strong wind, where art thou blowing?
Into the air, the viewless air,
To be lost there:
There am I blowing.
Clear wave, swift wave, where art thou flowing?
Unto the sea, the boundless sea,
To be whelm'd there:
There am I flowing.
Young life, swift life, where art thou going?
Down to the grave, the loathsome grave,
To moulder there:
There am I going.
Lines For Music.
Frances Anne Kemble
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