| Two Undershot Watermills with Men Opening a Sluice | 
And a poem by A.A. Milne
Wind on the Hill
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.       
 
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