John Bannister Tabb

The Deathless Wind

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Thou canst not die; for who can slay
A spirit like to thee?
Yet do we envy not thy stay
When all things else that be
Thy boon companions pass away,
And perish utterly.

And is it, restless Wanderer,
The secret of the sigh
That in thy gentlest moods we hear
Or of the wailing cry
When tempests fill thee with fear--
To know thou canst not die?

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