sleep-sometimes-nothing-thy-hand-lids-thy-visits-thou-kind-thou-one-face-story

O sleep! O sleep! Do not forget me. Sometimes come and sweep, Now I have nothing left, thy healing hand Over the lids that crave thy visits bland, Thou kind, thou comforting one. For I have seen his face, as I desired, And all my story is done. O, I am tired.

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