“O sleep, we are beholden to thee, sleep,
Thou bearest angels to us in the night,
Saints out of heaven with palms. Seen by thy light
Sorrow is some old tale that goeth not deep;
Love is a pouting child.”

—  Jean Ingelow

"Sleep (A Woman Speaks)", line 1, p. 98.
The Monitions of the Unseen (1871)

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Jean Ingelow39
British writer 1820–1897

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