In Memoriam

William Nicholson

NICHOLSON WILLIAM. The sun has long been set, The stars are out by twos and threes, The little birds are piping yet. Among the bushes and the trees; There's a cuckoo, and one or two thrushes, And a far-off wind that rushes, And a sound of water that gushes, And the cuckoo's sovereign cry Fills all the hollow of the sky. Billy.



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