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*My Book Of Days*

Ó lá go lá, mo thuras, An bealach fada romham. Ó oiche go hoiche, mo thuras, na scéalta nach mbeidh a choích'.

The night is darkening around me.




The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow ;
But a tyrant spell has bound me,
And I cannot, cannot go.

The giant trees are bending
Their bare boughs weighed with snow ;
The storm is fast descending,
And yet I cannot go.

Clouds beyond clouds above me,
Wastes beyond wastes below ;
But nothing drear can move me :
I will not, cannot go.

(Emily Bronte)

Life in sepia.Dark Eyes

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