Excerpt from Poet Lore, Vol. 47: A Quarterly of World Literature; Autumn, 1941 Recurrent still, though far away, She hears as from a lofty height The wing-beat of departing day The muffled pendulum of night. And nearer now, her twilight dreams Come crowding round her, cool and deep. Her face a still, white lily seems. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work.

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