Explore "Moonfleet" by John Meade Falkner on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
The dull loneness, the black shade, / That these hanging vaults have made: / The strange music of the waves / Beating on these hollow caves / Wither
He set me down in one corner, where was some loose dry silver-sand upon the floor, which others had perhaps used for a resting-place before. "Thou must lie here for a month or two, lad," he said; " 'tis a mean bed, but I have known many worse, and will get straw tomorrow if I can, to better it."