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The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought1 gold,
And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold: I kiss my wailing2 child and press it to my breast, And hear the narrow graves calling my child and me. Desolate3 winds that cry over the wandering sea; Desolate winds that hover4 in the flaming West; Desolate winds that beat the doors of Heaven, and beat The doors of Hell and blow there many a whimpering ghost; O heart the winds have shaken, the unappeasable host 点击收听单词发音
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