I saw you toss the kites on highAnd blow the birds about the sky;And all around I heard you pass,Like ladies’ skirts across the grass
I saw the different things you did,But always you yourself you hid.I felt you push, I heard you call,I could not see yourself at all—
O you that are so strong and cold,O blower, are you young or old?Are you a beast of field and tree,Or just a stronger child than me?
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