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TWILIGHT.

NO WRITER ATTRIBUTED

Now blue-eyed Heaven, radiant with smiles,

Bends low and softly kisses earth good night,

Hushing its noisy hum in deep repose,

As a fond mother to her bosom folds

Her babe aweary of its little world, -

Aweary of the joys of sweet child life, -

Circling him with her arms in such embrace

As only mothers give; and, drawing close

The coverlet about his tired form,

Listens the rise and falling of his breath,

Then turns away: and still anon turns back,

When in the cradle fast asleep he lies,

With many lingering glances, fond and sweet.

So Heaven ever and anon looks back

Upon her restless child, the earth, asleep.

T. C. P.

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