I hear the wind a blowI hear the grass a grow,And all that I know, I know.But I will not speak, I will run away.

TOIL and grow rich, what's that but to lie with a foul witch and after, drained dry, to be brought to the chamber where lies one long sought with despair.

Wine comes in at the mouth And love comes in at the eye; That's all we shall know for truth Before we grow old and die.

Come Fairies, take me out of this dull world, for I would ride with you upon the wind and dance upon the mountains like a flame!

Blow, blow, thou winter wind, thou art not so unkind as man's ingratitude.

There came a wind like a bugle; / It quivered through the grass.