A sand-dune says to the wind that moves
Softly, passing him-by:
''Take me with thee, through valleys and groves
Whence birds frolick and fly;
Deep into a land of rain and snow,
Is where I'd rather go,
For this place holds no charm and I say,
I'm wont to fly away...''
Hearing which, the whirl-wind lifts
Herself to swiftly glide,
Whilst in fear, the sand-dune shifts,
Seeking somewhere to hide:
But before another gust, like a child feeling quite lost,
Is strewn about the sullen land by the one he did accost....