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Romance

MY Love dwelt in a Northern land.    A gray tower in a forest green  Was hers, and far on either hand    The long wash of the waves was seen,  And leagues on leagues of yellow sand,  The woven forest boughs between!    And through the silver Northern night    The sunset slowly died away,  And herds of strange deer, lily-white,    Stole forth among the branches gray;

About the coming of the light,    They fled like ghosts before the day!    I know not if the forest green    Still girdles round that castle gray;  I know not if the boughs between  The white deer vanish ere the day;  Above my Love the grass is green,    My heart is colder than the clay!

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Andrew Lang

Andrew Lang (31 March 1844 – 20 July 1912) was a Scottish poet, novelist, literary critic, and contributor to the field of anthropology. He is b…
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