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Along the trail

a book of lyrics by Richard Hovey
Hovey, Richard (1864-1900)

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37

NOCTURNE

White, white I remember her—
White from her forehead to her feet.
The moonlight falling through the pane
Was not so white, was not so sweet.
She was a pool of moonlight there
Between the window and the wall,
And the slow minutes bathed in her
And went away beyond recall.
1898
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