Here I am, back for two days in a row.
Strange occurrence did I behold last night upon the hill, under moonshine clasping. I did see a shadow rise in flight. It was no ghost nor demon’s hand But some spell of nature’s own dev’lish might. The shadow reached toward heaven rasping, And in the wind I heard the cry, A cry forewarning, A cry of ending, T’was only echos of words long penned, Of words not spoken, Of dreams forgotten.
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