He felt that he had always been there, among the apple trees, watching for the woman in the tower to come to her window. Seasons may have passed, years may have grown green on the...
—Ava Zavora
On either side the river lieLong fields of barley and of rye,That clothe the wold and meet the sky;And through the field the road runs byTo many-towered Camelot.
—Alfred Lord Tennyson
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