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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LULLABY, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: Sleep, o my babe, not thine a manger
Last Line: As soft as rose-leaves on thee fall.


Sleep, O my babe, not thine a manger
Where cradled lies thy helpless head;
No oxen low, dear little stranger,
And wondering stare above thy bed;
Thou needst not weep,
Ah, slumber deep,
For fond hearts wake while thou dost sleep,
And light as dews shed from the skies
Love shuts the violets of thine eyes;
Not in a stall
Love's kisses all
As soft as rose-leaves on thee fall.





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