At moonset cry the crows,
streaking the frosty sky;
Dimly lit fishing boats'neath
maples sadly lie.
Beyond the city wall,
form Temple of Cold Hill.
Bells break the ship-borne roamer's
dream and midnight still.
At moonset cry the crows,
streaking the frosty sky;
Dimly lit fishing boats'neath
maples sadly lie.
Beyond the city wall,
form Temple of Cold Hill.
Bells break the ship-borne roamer's
dream and midnight still.
本文标题：Mooring by MapleBridge At Night
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