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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.
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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