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Is she kind as she is fair?
For beauty lives with kindness, Love doth to her eyes repair,
To help him of his blindness, And, being help'd, inhabits there.
128
Rest, rest, on mother's breast,
Father will come to thee soon;
Father will come to his babe in the nest,
Silver sails all out of the west
Under the silver moon:
Sleep, my little one, sleep, my pretty one, sleep.
Alfred TenNYSON