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A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, [1916], at

p. 81


CIRCA A.D. 1150


Moonlight! the floating mists are gone, a wind
   unveils the deep clear night.
Star rivals star, and the silver river draws to her
   breast the dreamy light.
Gaunt old trees cast shadows on the plain;
Little birds hushed by fear are stirring, singing
And my heart is a tumult of song
And a torrent of wild wings shaking free.
Home, home, home—I hear the long
Shrill of the far cicada calling me.

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