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Poem by Katharine Tynan
Where are ye now, O beautiful girls of the mountain, Oreads all ? Nothing at all stirs here save the drip of the fountain; Answers our call Only the heart-glad thrush, in the Vale of Thrushes; Stirs in the brake But the dew-bright ear of the hare in his couch of rushes Listening, awake.
Katharine Tynan's other poems:
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