Cradle-Song At Twilight
A
Alice Meynell
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The child not yet is lulled to rest.
Too young a nurse, the slender Night
So laxly holds him to her breast
That throbs with flight.
He plays with her, and will not sleep.
For other playfellows she sighs;
An unmaternal fondness keep
Her alien eyes.
Kamu malı: şairin ölümünün üzerinden 70 yıldan fazla geçti.
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