Christmas Eve
E
Ella Higginson
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Straight thro’ a fold of purple mist The sun goes down—a crimson wheel— And like an opal burns the sea That once was cold as steel. With pomp of purple, gold and red, Thou wilt come back at morrow’s dawn… But thou can’st never bring, O Sun, The Christmas that is gone!
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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