Page:The wind among the reeds.pdf/40

MICHAEL ROBARTES BIDS HIS BELOVED BE AT PEACE^[1]

I hear the Shadowy Horses, their long manes a-shake,
Their hoofs heavy with tumult, their eyes glimmering white;
The North unfolds above them clinging, creeping night,
The East her hidden joy before the morning break,
The West weeps in pale dew and sighs passing away,
The South is pouring down roses of crimson fire:

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1. Notes