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Thou art come from forests dark and deep, thou mighty rushing Wind! And thou bearest all their unisons in one full swell combined; The restless pines, the moaning stream, all hidden things and free, Of the dim old sounding wilderness, hare lent their soul to thee.

Thou art come from cities lighted up for the conqueror passing by, Thou art wafting from their streets a sound of haughty revelry; The rolling of triumphant wheels, the harpings in the hall, The far-off shout of multitudes, are in thy rise and fall.