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90
UNWORTHY
Am I not worthy of thee? O my child,
Come close, come close, and nurse upon thy breast
My aching brow! Let thy sweet hands be pressed
Cool, cool on these hot eyelids till the wild,
Come close, come close, and nurse upon thy breast
My aching brow! Let thy sweet hands be pressed
Cool, cool on these hot eyelids till the wild,
Ungoverned tumult of my brain is stilled.
Close, close, till that sound dies within my ears,
And I may cease from questioning with tears
Why God has made me love thee; O my child!
Close, close, till that sound dies within my ears,
And I may cease from questioning with tears
Why God has made me love thee; O my child!
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