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Poem by Robert William Service Weary Some praise the Lord for Light, The living spark; I thank God for the Night The healing dark. When wearily I lie, With aching sight, With what thanksgiving I Turn out the light! When to night's drowsy deep Serene I sink, How glad am I to sleep, To cease to think! From care and fret set free, In sweet respite, With joy I peacefully Turn out the light. Lie down thou weary one, And sink to rest; Nay, grieve not for the sun, The dark is best. So greet with grateful breath Eternal Night, When soft the hand of Death Turns out the light. Robert William Service Robert William Service's other poems:
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