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A Feast of Lanterns, by L. Cranmer-Byng, , at sacred-texts.com
When wild geese leave the uplands lone
The frost turns sand and rock to stone.
When over Chiang Nan they scream
Pale leaves go drifting down the stream.
Broad is the water; heaven leans low;
Sullen and dun the cloud-wracks show.
When north winds tear the ragged sky
Their taper files go whistling by.
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