O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep; thou bearest angels to us in the night, saints out of heaven with palms. seen by thy light sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep; love is a pouting child.
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O Sleep, We Are Beholden To Thee,
O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep; thou bearest angels to us in the night, saints out of heaven with palms. seen by thy light sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep; love is a pouting child.
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