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"[...] And must the old priest wake with fright Because the wind is high tonight? Because the yellow moonlight dead Lies silent as a word unsaid- What dreams had he upon his bed? Listen-the storm! The winter moon scuds high and bare; Her light is old upon his hair; The gray priest muses in a prayer: "Christ Jesus, when I come to die Grant me a clean, sweet, summer sky, Without the mad wind's panther cry. Send me a little garden breeze To gossip in magnolia trees; For I have heard, these fifty years, Confessions muttered at ...

Carolina Chansons 2011, Createspace Independent Publishing Platform, North Charleston SC

ISBN-13: 9781461071587

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