| How countless they congregate
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| O'er our tumultuous snow
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| Which flows in shapes as tall as trees
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| When wintry winds do blow
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| Upon this star I fixed my eye
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| All over the wide land
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| My horse moved on, hoof after hoof
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| He raised and never stopped
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| When down behind the cottage roof
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| At once the planet dropped
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| As if with keenness for our fate
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| Our faltering few steps on
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| To white rest, and a place of rest
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| Invisible at dawn
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| And yet with neither love nor hate
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| Those stars like some snow-white
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| Morgoth snow-white marble eyes
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| Without the gift of sight |