About Wandered Winds
Post 133:
Be it bestowed or withheld, we’ve no cause to call
If straining or capacious, we’ll take what is all
I see if after, after I’ve seen
The mountain, the tower, in glory’s sheen
Those fables spent are garish gold
But simple splendor I long to hold
The wandered winds are nothing more
Than recompense for love I’m sure
See you after.
