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Ill Met by Moonlight

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  • Ill Met by Moonlight

    And when
    The rushing wind is Stilled
    The stars spring out to fill the void
    But foremost, Artemis gives chase
    Her hounds, a fleeting line of cloud
    Silent in the cold moonlight, bound
    For the the hart whose unchaste
    Gaze has called reprisal
    On his eyes.​
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