The Fall of the Leaf | ||
XVIII.
Full many a path, which ne'er beforeThe maid had seen, she traversed o'er;
While many a flower of dubious hue
Their fragrance o'er the midnight threw;
Though now was heard no eager hum
Of loaded bee returning home.
But as he slew each sleeping bird,
The sound of distant kite was heard.
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For, riding on the wing of night,
Loud cries of wolves spread wild alarm,
From wood to wood, from farm to farm.
The Fall of the Leaf | ||