A glazy eyed and silver moon,
Cast ghostly gloom upon the weeds,
Like dying light upon a grave,
As fierce Andraste fell in the reeds.
A gale blew storms from in the east,
Oh winds that smothered frantic words,
As sinking slowly in the peat,
Andraste's last breath could not be heard.
The shining mantle of her beast,
Reflected as it gave up the ghost,
In
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