The Sick Wind Moans, Moans The Sick Wind
The sick wind moans, moans the sick wind
There mystery lies in its every moan:
It tells all and nothing yet it tells
How careful hides it the secret in its breast.
The old oak hears the sick wind
And hearing it understands its own
And weeps the old oak without a cry.
poem by Emmanuel George Cefai
Added by Poetry Lover
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