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						Bells in the Rain by Elinor Wylie 
						
						Sleep falls, with limpid drops of rain,  Upon the steep cliffs of the town.  Sleep falls; men are at peace again  While the small drops fall softly down.
  The bright drops ring like bells of glass  Thinned by the wind, and lightly blown;  Sleep cannot fall on peaceful grass  So softly as it falls on stone.
  Peace falls unheeded on the dead  Asleep; they have had deep peace to drink;  Upon a live man's bloody head  It falls most tenderly, I think.						 
						
						
						
						
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