The Willows

In the round hollow of the moonlit meadow
Over the pond the seven willows shiver,
And in the ghostly misty shine their branches
Rustle and glance and quiver—

Rustle and glance and quiver in the moonshine—
The seven sisters shaking sea-green tresses
Over the round pond's misty mirror, whispering
Strange secrets to the shadow in the cresses.
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