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Arthur Henry Adams - In Hyde Park.
Work rating: Low

The white mist walks between the trees
In silver gown;
Her mystic floating draperies
The branches drown;
And lurking there with eager leer
And wonder new,
The lamps inquisitively peer
Their fingers through.
The world sighs wearily, with pain
Drawing tired breath;
The stars are like a silver rain;
And down beneath
On Night`s smooth garment running o`er
In sullen flood,
The city, like a festering sore,
Oozes warm blood.
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