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The Ghost

 Peace in thy hands, 
Peace in thine eyes, 
Peace on thy brow; 
Flower of a moment in the eternal hour, 
Peace with me now.
Not a wave breaks, Not a bird calls, My heart, like a sea, Silent after a storm that hath died, Sleeps within me.
All the night's dews, All the world's leaves, All winter's snow Seem with their quiet to have stilled in life's dream All sorrowing now.

by Charles Baudelaire
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