Lady, when your lovely headDroops to sink among the Dead,And the quiet places keepYou that so divinely sleep;Then the dead shall blessèd beWith a new solemnity,For such Beauty, so descending,Pledges them that Death is ending.Sleep your fill--but when you wakeDawn shall over Lethe break.
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On a Sleeping Friend
written byHilaire Belloc
© Hilaire Belloc
