The Author A. E. Housman

The half-moon westers low, my love


    The half-moon westers low, my love,
    And the wind brings up the rain;
    And wide apart lie we, my love,
    And seas between the twain.

    I know not if it rains, my love,
    In the land where you do lie;
    And oh, so sound you sleep, my love,
    You know no more than I.


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