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.
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Post 40 of 76
Published: March 2, 2026 (69 days ago)
Submitted by: admin