I wandered far onto the lonely moors. Sparse coarse tufts of grass reached out to trip me. And above my head the leaden clouds hung low. As I turned my face into the rain. . I huddled close
And it rains here. Everyday since I came,. And the linen covers rocks. And the green finds everything. Chimacum rain In the soar of leaves. And needle tufts and form,. In the grasses and the
Ankrum). They need to reproduce. (With Richard Basehart). They need to reproduce. (With Jackie Coogan). They need to reproduce. (With Sonny Tufts) The botchino, the botchino, the botchino. The