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November
06:38
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Nought have I to bring,
Tramping a-chill and shivering,
Except these pine-cones for a blaze,-
Except a fog which follows,
And stuffs up all the hollows,-
Except a hoar frost here and there,-
Except some shooting stars
Which dart their luminous cars
Trackless and noiseless through the keen night air.
The earth lies fast asleep, grown tired
Of all that’s high or deep;
There’s nought desired and nought required
Save a sleep.
I rock the cradle of the earth,
I lull her with a sigh;
And know that she will wake to mirth
By and by.
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In Gowan Ring
The Symbolist Folk Music of In Gowan Ring channels stories of stones and angels through homemade instruments and human voice.
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