From fair free lands, from far froathy waters - wreathing, rounding rocks - the wayward wind comes a-writhing
From dankest dells, from dim deeps - drowneds’ dusky dwelling - it’s shadow spins a solemn story, now screaming shrilly, now sleeping soundly
”Come o wanderer-wind, come tell thine thrilling tidings!”
”Come o wind of wrath, come do thine dire ire-deeds!”
To towering heights, to teeming towns - there southern winds send songs a-singing - now venom war-words, now mirthy musing music
”Come o stranger-wind - ye sighing summer-strider!”
”Come bitter battle-bringer, and far-gone forgotten friend!”
