The Roaring Frost
A FLOCK of winds came winging from the North,
Strong birds with fighting pinions driving forth
With a resounding call: —
Where will they close their wings and cease their cries —
Between what warming seas and conquering skies —
And fold, and fall?
Strong birds with fighting pinions driving forth
With a resounding call: —
Where will they close their wings and cease their cries —
Between what warming seas and conquering skies —
And fold, and fall?
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