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Later Poems

CRADLE-SONG AT TWILIGHT

Reading edition

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.

Explore with AITake your curiosity a little further.

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