Irish Nocturne (C. S. Lewis Poems)
Now the grey mist comes creeping upFrom the waste ocean's weedy strandAnd fills the valley, as a cupIf filled of ...
Now the grey mist comes creeping upFrom the waste ocean's weedy strandAnd fills the valley, as a cupIf filled of ...
Now the grey mist comes creeping upFrom the waste ocean's weedy strandAnd fills the valley, as a cupIf filled of ...
Fled foam underneath us, and round us, a wandering and milky smoke, High as the Saddle-girth, covering away from our ...
WHEN in my shadowy hours I pierce the hidden heart of hopes and fears, They change into immortal joys or ...
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