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Rh ''Loud! Loud!'' Loud I call to you my love! High and clear I shoot my voice over the waves, Surely you must know who is here, You must know who I am, my love.

Low-hanging moon! What is that dusky spot in your brown yellow? O it is the shape of my mate! O moon, do not keep her from me any longer.

''Land! O land!'' Whichever way I turn, O I think you could give me 
 * my mate back again, if you would,

For I am almost sure I see her dimly whichever way
 * I look.

O rising stars! Perhaps the one I want so much will rise with some
 * of you.

O throat! Sound clearer through the atmosphere! Pierce the woods, the earth, Somewhere listening to catch you must be the one I
 * want.

Shake out, carols! Solitary here—the night's carols! ''Carols of lonesome love! Death's carols!'' Carols under that lagging, yellow, waning moon! O, under that moon, where she droops almost down
 * into the sea!

O reckless, despairing carols.