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Not quite the last highwayman

The wind was a torrent of darkness among the gusty trees.   
The moon was a ghostly galleon tossed upon cloudy seas.   
The road was a ribbon of moonlight over the purple moor,   
And the highwayman came riding—
         Riding—riding—
The highwayman came riding, up to the old inn-door.
 
(‘The Highwayman’ – Alfred Noyes

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In love with England

As he brooded restlessly along the Oxfordshire landscape, he felt the story of England, of which he was part, gradually taking possession of him. He must learn it all, through and through, not to make any material use of it, but for its own sake, as a lover. That was it: he was in love with England.

(Robinson of England – John Drinkwater)

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