Will be their only way,For, in the midst of play—Pause—a long sway,Something faltering underneath;The briefGasp of the breath, eye's blur,Blunder of mortal fingers, words too thick to say,Slight motions underneath the grayFaces of cloud,And carolling, carolling, carolling loud,To keep the cold away.
Some will slouch,Lazy, brave;Others crouchIn a hidden cave,Hearing near and hearing farHeavy steps from feet of stone:Tread the warping fields alone—Hearing far and hearing nearThe wind's hiss in earth's ear—FeelGround fall, and ground reel,Brittle footsteps stealUp the hill and down the cliff,Touching, snapping, making stiff;
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