At the Trysting-Place (Ozora Stearns Davis Poems)
Above the hills, the eastern hills, There's a threat of the rising moon; And the night's fair queen With the silver sheen Will gladden ...
Above the hills, the eastern hills, There's a threat of the rising moon; And the night's fair queen With the silver sheen Will gladden ...
When morning broke, the air was thick with snow; The burdened trees, with branches bending low, Were softly mourning o'er the summer ...
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