<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?>
<>
  <node>
    <title>Greacen021</title>
    <Collections>Unpublished Poems</Collections>
    <Contributor>Greacen Estate</Contributor>
    <Coverage>19 Jan</Coverage>
    <Creator>Linen Hall Library</Creator>
    <Date>Wednesday, March 16, 2016</Date>
    <Format>TIFF</Format>
    <Identifier>Greacen021</Identifier>
    <ItemDescription>Manuscript</ItemDescription>
    <Keywords>The hollow voices</Keywords>
    <Language>English</Language>
    <Path>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/content/greacen021</Path>
    <Publisher>Linen Hall Library</Publisher>
    <Relation>Linen Hall Library</Relation>
    <Rights>Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike CC BY-NC-SA</Rights>
    <Scannedimage>https://www.niliteraryarchive.com/sites/default/files/Greacen021_0.jpg</Scannedimage>
    <Source>LHL Archive</Source>
    <Transcript>﻿The Hollow Voices

Doom says the lead—ribbed sky,
Doom cries the angry bird.
Doom says the crooked house,
Doom cries the empty word,

As my true love and I were walking,
Were walking one fine winter’s morning
We heard the voices, hollow-mocking voices
But we wouldn&#039;t listen wouldn&#039;t,
Wouldn’t listen...

Doom says the valley thunder,
Doom cries the biting sleet,
Doom says the twisted spire,
Doom cries the vacant heart.

But my true love and I were kissing
Upon that fine frosted morning.
We heard the hollow, hollow voices,
But we wouldn&#039;t listen, woudn’t, wouldn&#039;t
listen.
</Transcript>
    <Type>Text</Type>
  </node>
</>
