the hollow voice
Of that old crone, the only living sound;
Her face, on which mortality has writ
Its closing, with the wan and bony hand,
Raised like a spectre's-and yourself the while,
Cold from the midnight chill, and white with fear,
Your large blue eyes darker and larger grown
With terror's chain'd attention, and your breath
Suppress'd for very earnestness. (Letitia Elizabeth Landon)

the hollow voice Of that old crone, the only living sound; Her face, on which mortality has writ Its closing, with the wan and bony hand, Raised like a spectre's-and yourself the while, Cold from the midnight chill, and white with fear, Your large blue eyes darker and larger grown With terror's chain'd attention, and your breath Suppress'd for very earnestness.

Letitia Elizabeth Landon

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attention blue breath chill closing cold crone earnestness face fear hand hollow large living midnight mortality sound voice wan while white writ eyes

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