menu_book Chapter 20

from A Spring Harvest by Geoffrey Bache Smith — automated transcript, may contain recognition errors.

20. The Southwest Wind. The southwest wind has blown his fill, And vanished with departing day. The air is warm, and very still, And soft as silks of far Cathay. This is a night when spirits stray, Their one limbs bear them where they will.

They wring their pallid hands away, Seeing the lights upon the hill. End of section 20.

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