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Stephen Spender - DaybreakStephen Spender - Daybreak
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At Dawn she lay with her profile  at that angle Which, when she sleeps, seems the carved face of an angel. Her hair a harp, the hand of a breeze follows And plays, against the white cloud of the pillows. Then, in a flush of rose, she woke, and her eyes that opened Swam in blue through her rose flesh that dawned. From her dew of lips, the drop of one word Fell like the first of fountains: murmured `Darling`, upon my ears  the song of the first bird. `My dream becomes my dream,` she said, `come true. I waken from you to my dream of you.` Oh, my own wakened dream then dared assume The audacity of her sleep. Our dreams Poured into each other`s arms, like streams.
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