The Dead Oread (Madison Julius Cawein Poems)
Her heart is still and leaps no moreWith holy passion when the breeze,Her whilom playmate, as before,Comes with the language ...
Her heart is still and leaps no moreWith holy passion when the breeze,Her whilom playmate, as before,Comes with the language ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
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