Sleep like death – The Cockney Bard

Sleep Like Death

Wipe not your tears when cold death knocks, or fear the loss of love once knew. Lay not the rose to wither on the grave, or watch the morning dew. Hear not the birds come early morn, or count the hours but slow away. Hurt not inside for those that died, and grieve not to dismay. Time, life’s short passage must there pass, like the memory of the looking glass, where pained expression seeks no more.

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