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Fin De Fête Sweetheart, for such a day One mustn't grudge the score; Here, then, it's all to pay, It's Good-night at the door. Good-night and good dreams to you,— Do you remember the picture-book thieves Who left two children sleeping in a wood the long night through, And how the birds came down and covered them with leaves? So you and I should have slept,—But now, Oh, what a lonely head! With just the shadow of a waving bough In the moonlight over your bed. Charlotte Mew's other poems: Распечатать (Print) Количество обращений к стихотворению: 1387 |
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