Showcase & Discover Creative Work Sign Up For Free
Hiring Talent? Post a Job

Bēhance




  • The skies they were ashen and sober;
    The leaves they were crisped and sere -
    The leaves they were withering and sere;
    It was night in the lonesome October
    Of my most immemorial year:
    It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
    In the misty mid region of Weir: - 
    It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
    In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.