Create your own visitor map!
The skies they were ashen and sober;
The leaves they were crisped and sere-
The leaves they were withering and sere;
It was night in the lonesome October
Of my most immemorial year;
It was hard by the dim lake of Auber,
In the misty mid region of Weir-
It was down by the dank tarn of Auber,
In the ghoul-haunted woodland of Weir.
:thumb67010444: :thumb67538776: :thumb67760138:
:thumb67188739: :thumb67793469: :thumb66321516:
:thumb68141298: :thumb66561961: :thumb67856967:
Here once, through an alley Titanic,
Of cypre