The cold blast at the casement beats;The window-panes are white;The snow whirls through the empty streets;It is a dreary night!
It is the Harvest Moon! On gilded vanes and roofs of villages, on woodland crests and their aerial neighborhoods of nests deserted, on the curtained window-panes of rooms where children sleep, on country lanes and harvest-fields, its mystic splendor rests.Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Polyphiloprogenitive The sapient sutlers of the Lord Drift across the window-panes In the beginning was the Word.
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