Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes,Which all the day with ceaseless care have soughtThe magic gold which from the seeker flies;Ere dreams put on the gown and cap of thought,And make the waking world a world of lies,-Of lies most palpable, uncouth, forlorn,That say life's full of aches and tears and sighs,-Oh, how with more than dreams the soul is torn,Ere sleep comes down to soothe the weary eyes.
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