The Nightlong Tryst
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The Nightlong Tryst
THE NIGHTLONG TRYST
Down by the eastern gate
The willow wood's astir;
From dusk to dawn I wait
Through the soundless hours for her,
Till the morning star is shining.
Down by the eastern gate
The willow-thicket pales;
From dusk to dawn I wait,
Till the last red lantern fails,
And the morning star is shining.
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