Speak of the North! A Lonely Moor
Speak of the North! A lonely moorSilent and dark and tractless swells,The waves of some wild streamlet pourHurriedly through its ferny dells.
Profoundly still the twilight air,Lifeless the landscape; so we deemTill like a phantom gliding nearA stag bends down to drink the stream.
And far away a mountain zone,A cold, white waste of snow-drifts lies,And one star, large and soft and lone,Silently lights the unclouded skies.
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