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At Nightfall

Rating: 2.6
The dark is coming o'er the world, my playmate,
And the fields where poplars stand are very still,
All our groves of green delight have been invaded,
There are voices quite unknown upon the hill;

The wind has grown too weary for a comrade,
It is keening in the rushes spent and low,
Let us join our hands and hasten very softly
To the little, olden, friendly path we know.
The stars are laughing at us, O, my playmate,
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5/8/2021 3:44:48 AM # 1.0.0.577