She sits upon her Bulbul
She sits upon her Bulbul
Through the long long hours of night —
And o'er the dark horizon gleams
The Yashmack's fitful light.
The lone Yaourt sails slowly down
The deep and craggy dell —
And from his lofty nest, loud screams
The white-plumed Asphodel.
Through the long long hours of night —
And o'er the dark horizon gleams
The Yashmack's fitful light.
The lone Yaourt sails slowly down
The deep and craggy dell —
And from his lofty nest, loud screams
The white-plumed Asphodel.
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