Wreathed in vapors, my fingers rest,
‘Pon timbers aged by murmurs hollow,
Mid prattlings cast to the echo’s behest,
‘Twixt dream-damp’d notes and silence callow.
Fronds: “Echo”
By
By
Wreathed in vapors, my fingers rest,
‘Pon timbers aged by murmurs hollow,
Mid prattlings cast to the echo’s behest,
‘Twixt dream-damp’d notes and silence callow.
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