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Siegfried Sassoon - Night-PieceSiegfried Sassoon - Night-Piece
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Ye hooded witches, baleful shapes that moan,   Quench your fantastic lanterns and be still;   For now the moon through heaven sails alone,   Shedding her peaceful rays from hill to hill.   The faun from out his dim and secret place Draws nigh the darkling pool and from his dream   Half-wakens, seeing there his sylvan face   Reflected, and the wistful eyes that gleam.     To his cold lips he sets the pipe to blow   Some drowsy note that charms the listening air: The dryads from their trees come down and creep   Near to his side; monotonous and low,   He plays and plays till at the woodside there   Stirs to the voice of everlasting sleep.
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