And in the moon athwart the place of tombs, Where lay the mighty bones of ancient men, Old knights, and over them the sea-wind sang Shrill, chill, with flakes of foam. He, stepping down By zigzag paths, and juts of pointed rock, Came on the shining levels... Poems - Page 6 by Alfred Tennyson Baron Tennyson - 1846 - 235 pages Full view -
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