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First Line: Across the sky the staring moon rides high
Last Line: The scorning horde with a triumphant cry!
Subject(s): Love


Across the sky the staring moon rides high,
The white light shed upon the gleaming snow—
The night is bitter as the chill wind's cry
Soon lost amid the shivering brakes below.
But that is all without—here safe with you
Within the shelter of your circling arm
What care have I that this sweet thing we do
Might seem to others fraught with lurking harm?
This stolen hour is worth the little price
That's put upon it by restraining hands;
Full well I know they shake the loaded dice
And heat the irons for the searing brands—
But though the world might flay, I still defy
The scorning horde with a triumphant cry!





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