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Cradle-Song at Twilight

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.

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http://poetry.elcore.net/CatholicPoets/Meynell/Meynell022.html Created April 11, 2001; not revised.