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1762–1850

NORTH WIND.

William Lisle Bowles

From the vast and desert deeps, Where the lonely Kraken sleeps, Where fixed the icy mountains high Glimmer to the twilight sky;

Where, six lingering months to last, The night has closed, the day is past, Father, lo, I come, I come: I have heard the wizard's drum,

And the withered Lapland hag, Seal, with muttered spell, her bag: O'er mountains white, and forests sere, I flew, and with a wink am here.

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NORTH WIND. · William Lisle Bowles · Poetry Cove