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78
THE DORMITIO
I
Lonely art thou in thy sleeping!Mary, thou must know Death's rest;
Thy apostles lay thee, weeping,
In a little tomb to rest,
At the foot of Olivet:
There they leave thee fast asleep;
And thy grave no watchers keep.
II
Night on earth hath never fallenAs it falls on this night-fall.
For so deep a peace is fallen
Dove to dove doth make no call:
And the dew lies as a fleece
Covering sweet Mary's peace.
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