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Poem by Bliss Carman Under the April Moon Oh, well the world is dreaming Under the April moon, Her soul in love with beauty, Her senses all a-swoon! Pure hangs the silver crescent Above the twilight wood, And pure the silver music Wakes from the marshy flood. O Earth, with all thy transport, How comes it life should seem A shadow in the moonlight, A murmur in a dream? Bliss Carman Bliss Carman's other poems: 1236 Views |
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