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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

LULLABY, by                    
First Line: At sunset our white butterflies
Last Line: My little lady, sleep!


At sunset our white butterflies
Vanish and fold and creep,
Where now the golden daylight dies,
Out in the field to sleep;
Among the morning-glories furled
They furl their drowsy wings,
Forget the sun upon the world,
And what the sparrow sings;
They will not know what dews may kiss
Nor what stars vigil keep;
Fold up, white wing, and be like this
All in the twilight deep;
With everything that pretty is,
My little lady, sleep!





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