Letters Of The Lovers
Synopsis
I. TO ANNA. Thou canst not fly me, dearest maid! I haunt thee with the Evening's shade; I see with thee ``her golden glow Fall on the silver lake below,''-- The trees that paint them in the stream Another earth and sky to seem,-- The self--same shades that tinge thy sky Make the full circle of my eye. When Night her mantle casts around,
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