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						Half-waking by William Allingham 
						
						I thought it was the little bed  I slept in long ago;  A straight white curtain at the head,  And two smooth knobs below.  I thought I saw the nursery fire,  And in a chair well-known  My mother sat, and did not tire  With reading all alone.  If I should make the slightest sound  To show that I'm awake,  She'd rise, and lap the blankets round,  My pillow softly shake;  Kiss me, and turn my face to see  The shadows on the wall,  And then sing Rousseau's Dream to me,  Till fast asleep I fall.  But this is not my little bed;  That time is far away;  With strangers now I live instead,  From dreary day to day. 						 
						
						
						
						
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