Page:Songs of the Soul (1923).djvu/88

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SONGS OF THE SOUL

THE SPELL

Ah, this old, old nectar of nightBrewed below by Sun God bright!—Let every little fleshly cellThat’s tired and thirsty drink it well.By soothing spell of sleep ejectAll aches that heart and brain infect!The spell quick marching onFalls on me now so warm,And robs my mindOf linked thoughts, to bindMe prisoner in its charm.

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