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The wind blows, the wind blows,
Over the ocean far,
But oh ! it has forgot the waves
And the Isles where the Penguins are.
The wind blows, the wind blows,
Over the forest wide,
But oh! it has forgot the shade
And the dells where the hunted hide.
The wind blows, the wind blows,
Over the houses high,
The paper whirls in the dusty street
And the clouds are atoss in the sky.
—Laurance Alma-Tadema.
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