The wild whirl of nameless regret and passionate sorrow
The wild winds flew round, sobbing in their dismay
The wind charged furiously through it, panting towards the downs
The wind piped drearily
The wind was in high frolic with the rain
The winnowed tastes of the ages
The woods were silent with adoration
The youth of the soul
The zenith turned shell pink
Their ephemeral but enchanting beauty had expired forever [ephemeral = markedly short-lived]