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Poem	There's something quieter than sleep Within this inner room! It wears a sprig upon its breast -- And will not tell its name. Some touch it, and some kiss it -- Some chafe its idle hand -- It has a simple gravity I do not understand! I would not weep if I were they -- How rude in one to sob! Might scare the quiet fairy Back to her native wood! While simple-hearted neighbors Chat of the "Early dead" -- We -- prone to periphrasis Remark that Birds have fled!
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