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Young Night-Thought

 All night long and every night, 
When my mama puts out the light, 
I see the people marching by, 
As plain as day before my eye.
Armies and emperor and kings, All carrying different kinds of things, And marching in so grand a way, You never saw the like by day.
So fine a show was never seen At the great circus on the green; For every kind of beast and man Is marching in that caravan.
As first they move a little slow, But still the faster on they go, And still beside me close I keep Until we reach the town of Sleep.

Poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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