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For works with similar titles, see The Wind.
For other versions of this work, see The Wind (Teasdale).
 

THE WIND

A WIND is blowing over my soul,
I hear it cry the whole night thro'—
Is there no peace for me on earth
Except with you?


Alas, the wind has made me wise,
Over my naked soul it blew,—
There is no peace for me on earth
Even with you.