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Poem by Anne Hunter
A song HARK, the raven flaps his wings, The owlet leaves her oaken bower, Now we dance in airy ring, On mossy banks at ev'ning hour: And lightly beat the dewy ground With our tiny feet around. Vapours dark, or sprites impure, Our fairy revels ne'er invade, In the hawthorn brake secure The glow-worm lights us thro' the shade. We lightly beat the dewy ground With our tiny feet around.
Anne Hunter's other poems:
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