The Wind by Dorothy Wordsworth poem

What way does the wind come? What way does he go?
He rides over the water, and over the snow,
Through wood and through vale: and o'er rocky height
Which goat cannot climb, takes his sounding flight.
He tosses about in every bare tree,
As, if you look up, you plainly may see;
But how he will come, and wither he goes,
There's never a scholar in England knows.