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    Where deep and misty shadows float
    In forest's depths is heard thy note.
    Like a lost spirit, earthbound still,
    Art thou, mysterious whip-poor-will.

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The moon of the whip-poor-will from the hillside; the boding cry
of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the read more

The moon of the whip-poor-will from the hillside; the boding cry
of the tree-toad, that harbinger of storm; the dreary hooting of
the screechowl.

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