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Harry Bartron

The Northern Winter

The North wind
Whirled its icy chill
From hill to hill,
And flung the
Pearl-white snow
In sheets
To fall,
And rise agin.

The enchanged howl
Of the plaintive wind
Pierced my ear;
And the frigid air
Dripped
From an ungloved
Fingertip.

Thus does memory
So sharp in age
With youthful recollection

[...] Read more

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