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| December Moon by Craig Sargent |
But what after all is one night? A short
space, especially when the darkness dims so soon, and so soon a bird sings, a
cock crows, or a faint green quickens, like a turning leaf, in the hollow of
the wave. Night, however, succeeds to night. The winter holds a pack of them in
store and deals them equally, they darken. Some of them hold aloft clear
planets, plates of brightness.
To the Lighthouse (131)
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