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Show MIDNIGHT. By Moss Rose. The clock has tolled the midnight hour, Ringing out from the old church tower; The singing winds have hushed their breath. All is still as the room of death; The moon has sent her brightest ray, Adown the sprinkled milky way, The hour is bright and fair, yet still Mournful memories chain my will. My thoughts remind me of the tread Of armed men - the ? dead; The loved of other years arise And pass before my ? eyes. Again I hear in whispers low The words I heard so long ago; Words of love, by the good and true, Spoken to me when life was new, While sitting here alone tonight, And dreaming of life's morning light. |