Читать книгу Bread and Circuses - Helen Parry Eden - Страница 10

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My night-dress hangs on fire-guard rail And my cup of milk on the table stands, The day goes down like a distant sail And leaves me undressed in my Mother’s hands.

She has washed me clean of the long day’s grime And the pillow is cool for my sleepy head, For the Angelus-bell with its three-fold chime Has tolled the sun and myself to bed.