Gargoyle Face
Gargoyle Face
...that country where it is always turning late in the year.
That country where the hills are fog and the rivers are
mist; where noons go quickly, dusks and twilights linger,
and midnights stay.  That country composed in the main
of cellars, sub-cellars, coal-bins, closets, attics, and
pantries faced away from the sun.  That country whose
people are autumn people, thinking only autumn thoughts.
Whose people passing at night on the empty walks sound
like rain...
 
 


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Last Updated on January 9th, 2000