University of Virginia Library

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Twelve O'clock.
  

Twelve O'clock.

Twelve O'clock.

Hist, Hark!
The Watch-dogs bark.
The Fire is covered,
The Bricks grow cold;
In the warmest Corner's
The brown Kobold.
He sits quite still,
And his Eyes are bright.
The Clock strikes twelve;
'Tis the dead of Night.
Snuggle down closer
Into your Bed,
And pull the Coverlets
Over your Head.

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