32 Wind Quotes

The Westerly Wind asserting his sway from the south-west quarter is often like a monarch gone mad, driving forth with wild imprecations the most faithful of his courtiers to shipwreck, disaster, and death.

The East Wind, an interloper in the dominions of Westerly weather, is an impassive-faced tyrant with a sharp poniard held behind his back for a treacherous stab.

The stormy March has come at last, With winds and clouds and changing skies; I hear the rushing of the blast That through the snowy valley flies.

Winds are advertisements of all they touch, however much or little we may be able to read them; telling their wanderings ever by their accents alone.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.

Who has seen the wind? Neither you nor I: But when the trees bow down their heads The wind is passing by.

When we were in the woods beyond Gowbarrow park we saw a few daffodils close to the water side:At last under the boughs of the trees, we saw that there was a long belt of them [deleted: the end we did not see] along the shore, about the breadth of a country turnpike road. I never saw daffodils so beautiful they grew among the mossy stones about and about them; some rested their heads upon these stones as on a pillow for weariness and the rest tossed and reeled and danced and seemed as if they verily laughed with the wind that blew upon them over the lake, they looked so gay ever glancing ever changing.

I heard through the night The rush and the clamour; The pulse of the fight Like blows of Thor's hammer; The pattering flight Of the leaves, and the anguished Moan of the forest vanquished.

O wild West Wind, thou breath of Autumn's being, Thou, from whose unseen presence the leaves dead Are driven, like ghosts from an enchanter fleeing, Yellow, and black, and pale, and hectic red, Pestilence-stricken multitudes: O thou, Who chariotest to their dark wintry bed.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free: We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea.

There paused to shut the door A fellow called the Wind, With mystery before, And reticence behind.

Over the darkened city, the city of towers, The city of a thousand gates, Over the gleaming terraced roofs, the huddled towers, Over a somnolent whisper of loves and hates, The slow wind flows, drearily streams and falls, With a mournful sound down rain-dark walls.

Yr wybrwynt helynt hylaw Agwrdd drwst a gerdda draw, Gwr eres wyd garw ei sain, Drud byd heb droed heb adain.

One only leaf upon the top of a tree - the sole remaining leaf - danced round and round like a rag blown by the wind.

When the gust hath blown his fill, Ending on the rustling leaves With minute drops from off the eaves.

But the principal failing occurred in the sailing, And the Bellman, perplexed and distressed, Said he had hoped, at least, when the wind blew due East That the ship would not travel due West!

She walked upon the grass, Still quavering. The winds were like her maids, On timid feet, Fetching her woven scarves, Yet wavering.

The south wind searches for the flowers whose fragrance late he bore, And sighs to find them in the wood and by the stream no more.

Across the silent stream Where the dream-shadows go, From the dim blue Hill of Dream I have heard the west wind blow.

Jane and Michael sat at the window watching for Mr. Banks to come home, and listening to the sound of the East Wind blowing through the naked branches of the cherry-trees in the Lane. The trees themselves, turning and bending in the half light, looked as though they had gone mad and were dancing their roots out of the ground. 'There he is!' said Michael, pointing suddenly to a shape that banged heavily against the gate. Jane peered through the gathering darkness. 'That's not Daddy,' she said. 'It's somebody else.' Then the shape, tossed and bent under the wind, lifted the latch of the gate, and they could see that it belonged to a woman, who was holding her hat on with one hand and carrying a bag in the other. As they watched, Jane and Michael saw a curious thing happen. As soon as the shape was inside the gate the wind seemed to catch her up into the air and fling her at the house. It was as though it had flung her first at the gate, waited for her to open it, and then had lifted and thrown her, bag and all, at the front door. The watching children heard a terrific bang, and as she landed the whole house shook. 'How funny! I've never seen that happen before,' said Michael.

My soul is awakened, my spirit is soaring And carried aloft on the wings of the breeze; For above and around me the wild wind is roaring, Arousing to rapture the earth and the seas.

The wind is rising on the sea, The windy white foam-dancers leap; And the sea moans uneasily, And turns to sleep, and cannot sleep.

Verde que te quiero verde. Verde viento. Verdes ramas. El barco sobre la mar y el caballo en la montana.

The storm is over, the land hushes to rest: The tyrannous wind, its strength fordone, Is fallen back in the west.

Wind goes from farm to farm in wave on wave, But carries no cry of what is hoped to be. There may be little or much beyond the grave, But the strong are saying nothing until they see.

Whenever the moon and stars are set, Whenever the wind is high, All night long in the dark and wet, A man goes riding by. Late in the night when the fires are out, Why does he gallop and gallop about?