The wind blows east, the wind blows west, <br />And the frost falls and the rain: <br />A weary heart went thankful to rest, <br />And must rise to toil again, 'gain, <br />And must rise to toil again. <br /> <br />The wind blows east, the wind blows west, <br />And there comes good luck and bad; <br />The thriftiest man is the cheerfulest; <br />'Tis a thriftless thing to be sad, sad, <br />'Tis a thriftless thing to be sad. <br /> <br />The wind blows east, the wind blows west; <br />Ye shall know a tree by its fruit: <br />This world, they say, is worst to the best; -- <br />But a dastard has evil to boot, boot, <br />But a dastard has evil to boot. <br /> <br />The wind blows east, the wind blows west; <br />What skills it to mourn or to talk? <br />A journey I have, and far ere I rest; <br />I must bundle my wallets and walk, walk, <br />I must bundle my wallets and walk. <br /> <br />The wind does blow as it lists alway; <br />Canst thou change this world to thy mind? <br />The world will wander its own wise way; <br />I also will wander mine, mine, <br />I also will wander mine.<br /><br />Thomas Carlyle<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/fortuna-3/
