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CURFEW

 I.
Solemnly, mournfully, Dealing its dole, The Curfew Bell Is beginning to toll.
Cover the embers, And put out the light; Toil comes with the morning, And rest with the night.
Dark grow the windows, And quenched is the fire; Sound fades into silence,-- All footsteps retire.
No voice in the chambers, No sound in the hall! Sleep and oblivion Reign over all! II.
The book is completed, And closed, like the day; And the hand that has written it Lays it away.
Dim grow its fancies; Forgotten they lie; Like coals in the ashes, They darken and die.
Song sinks into silence, The story is told, The windows are darkened, The hearth-stone is cold.
Darker and darker The black shadows fall; Sleep and oblivion Reign over all.

Poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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