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 Clouded with snow 
The cold winds blow, 
And shrill on leafless bough 
The robin with its burning breast 
Alone sings now.
The rayless sun, Day's journey done, Sheds its last ebbing light On fields in leagues of beauty spread Unearthly white.
Thick draws the dark, And spark by spark, The frost-fires kindle, and soon Over that sea of frozen foam Floats the white moon.

by Walter de la Mare
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