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A collection of poetry by Scottish writer Robert Louis Stevenson.

Page 436 of 454
Table of Contents

All Night Through, Raves or Broods

All night through, raves or broods The fitful wind among the woods; All night through, hark! the rain Beats upon the window pane.

And still my heart is far away, Still dwells in many a bygone day, And still follows hope with [rainbow wing] Adown the golden ways of spring.

In many a wood my fancy strays, In many unforgotten Mays, And still I feel the wandering⁠—

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