Only In SleepOnly in sleep I see their faces,Children I played with when I was a child,Louise comes back with her brown hair braided,Annie with ringlets warm and wild.Only in sleep Time is forgotten --What may have come to them, who can know?Yet we played last night as long ago,And the doll-house stood at the turn of the stair.The years had not sharpened their smooth round faces,I met their eyes and found them mild --Do they, too, dream of me, I wonder,And for them am I too a child?
-Sara Teasdale
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