Good-Night

Dame Mary Gilmore

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Good-night! . . . my darling sleeps so sound
She cannot hear me where she lies;
White lilies watch the closed eyes,
Red roses guard the folded hands.

Good-night! O woman who once lay
Upon my breast, so still, so sweet
That all my pulses, throbbing, beat
And flamed -- I cannot touch you now.

Good-night, my own! God knows we loved
So well, that all things else seemed slight --
We part forever in the night,
We two poor souls who loved so well.

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