Thursday, November 21, 2024 Text is available under the CC BY-SA 3.0 licence.

Fiona MacLeod

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Green wind from the green-gold branches, what is the song you bring?
What are all songs for me, now, who no more care to sing?
Deep in the heart of Summer, sweet is life to me still,
But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on a lonely hill.
--
Poem The Lonely Hunter

 
Fiona MacLeod

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