| The cold earth slept below above the cold sky shone;
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| And all around with a chilling sound.
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| From caves of ice and fields of snow the breath of night
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| like death did flow beneath the sinking moonlight.
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| Thine eyes glow’d in the glare of
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| the moon shone dying lighting;
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| a fen fire’s beam on the window
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| sluggish stream is gleams so
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| the moon shone there And it yellow’d
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| The wintry hedge was black the green grass was not seen;
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| The birds did rest on the bare thorn’s breast,
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| Whose roots beside the pathway track, Had bound their folds
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| over many a crack Which the frost had made between.
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| Thine eyes glow’d in the glare of
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| the moon’s dying lighting;
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| As a fen fire’s beam On a s
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| sluggish stream is Gleams—so
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| the moon shone there,
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| And it yellow’d
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| the strings of tangled hair,
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| That shook the wind of night.
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| The moon made thy lips pale, beloved;
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| The wind made bosom chill;
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| The night did shed your head
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| The bitter breath of naaaked sky
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| Might visit thee at will. |