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An Entity of Type : owl:Thing, within Data Space : 134.155.108.49:8890 associated with source dataset(s)

Words of the Wind [This is a volume of verse collected from Ashlander wise women. 'May I shrink to dust' is from the Ahemmusa Ashlanders of the Grazelands.]May I shrink to dustIn your cold, wild Wastes, And may my tongue speak Its last hymn to your winds. I pray for the herder That whistles to his guar at play. I pray for the hunter That stalks the white walkers. I pray for the wise one That seeks under the hill, And the wife who wishes For one last touch of her dead child's hand. I will not pray for that which I've lost When my heart springs forth From your soil, like a seed,

AttributesValues
rdfs:label
  • Words of the Wind
rdfs:comment
  • Words of the Wind [This is a volume of verse collected from Ashlander wise women. 'May I shrink to dust' is from the Ahemmusa Ashlanders of the Grazelands.]May I shrink to dustIn your cold, wild Wastes, And may my tongue speak Its last hymn to your winds. I pray for the herder That whistles to his guar at play. I pray for the hunter That stalks the white walkers. I pray for the wise one That seeks under the hill, And the wife who wishes For one last touch of her dead child's hand. I will not pray for that which I've lost When my heart springs forth From your soil, like a seed,
dcterms:subject
dragonborn/value
  • 5(xsd:integer)
dragonborn/lead
  • 1(xsd:integer)
dragonborn/weight
  • 1(xsd:integer)
FullTitle
  • Words of the Wind
online/id
  • bk_words_of_the_wind
dbkwik:elder-scrol...iPageUsesTemplate
dbkwik:elderscroll...iPageUsesTemplate
morrowind/value
  • 45(xsd:integer)
morrowind/weight
  • 4(xsd:integer)
morrowind/id
  • bk_words_of_the_wind
morrowind/lead
  • 1(xsd:integer)
Author
Title
  • Words of the Wind
online/lead
  • 1(xsd:integer)
abstract
  • Words of the Wind [This is a volume of verse collected from Ashlander wise women. 'May I shrink to dust' is from the Ahemmusa Ashlanders of the Grazelands.]May I shrink to dustIn your cold, wild Wastes, And may my tongue speak Its last hymn to your winds. I pray for the herder That whistles to his guar at play. I pray for the hunter That stalks the white walkers. I pray for the wise one That seeks under the hill, And the wife who wishes For one last touch of her dead child's hand. I will not pray for that which I've lost When my heart springs forth From your soil, like a seed, And blossoms anew beneath tomorrow's sun.
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