frbnkslady 49F
3442 posts
6/7/2006 1:58 pm

Last Read:
6/8/2006 7:56 am


Here oft, when Evening sheds her twlight ray,
And gilds with fainter beam departing day,
With breathless gaze, and cheeks with terror pale,
The lingering shepard startles at the tale,
How, at deep midnight, by moon's chill glance,
Unearthly forms prolong the viewless dance;
While on each whisp'ring breeze that murmurs by,
his busied fancy hears the hollow sigh.

by Thomas Stokes Salmon


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