Northern Return
Again the cry of black-faced lambs across the brackened hills;
Clouds flowering like dreams on barren crests;
A heart that hears the secret sound of amber-running rills
And in this scent of silence humbly rests.
Clouds flowering like dreams on barren crests;
A heart that hears the secret sound of amber-running rills
And in this scent of silence humbly rests.
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