No one can tell me, Nobody knows, Where the wind comes from, Where the wind goes. It’s flying from somewhere As fast as it can, I couldn’t keep up with it, Not if I ran. But if I stopped holding The string of my kite, It would blow with the wind For a day and a night. And then when I found it, Wherever it blew, I should know that the wind Had been going there too. So then I could tell them Where the wind goes… But where the wind comes from Nobody knows.
Forgotten
Lords of the Nursery Wait in a row, Five on the high wall, And four on the low; Big Kings and Little Kings, Brown Bears and Black, All of them waiting Till John comes back. Some think that John boy Is lost in the wood, Some say he couldn’t be, Some say he could. Some think that John boy Hides on the hill; Some say he won’t come back, Some say he will. High was the sun, when John went away… Here they’ve been waiting All through the day; Big Bears and Little Bears, White Kings and Black, All of them waiting Till John comes back. Lords of the Nursery Looked down the hill, Some saw the sheep-fold, Some saw the mill; Some saw the roofs Of the little grey town… And their shadows grew long As the sun slipt down. Gold between the poplars An old moon shows; Silver up the star-way The full moon rose; Silver down the star-way The old moon crept… And, one by another, The grey fields slept. Lords of the Nursery Their still watch keep… They hear from the sheep-fold The rustle of sheep. A young bird twitters And hides its head; A little wind suddenly Breathes, and is dead. Slowly and slowly Dawns the new day… What’s become of John boy? No one can say. Some think that John boy Is lost on the hill; Some say he won’t come back, Some say he will. What’s become of John boy? Nothing at all , He played with his skipping rope ,
