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By Thomas Hood (1799–1845) with comment by John Birtwhistle
We watch'd her breathing thro’ the night,
Her breathing soft and low,
As in her breast the wave of life
Kept heaving to and fro !
So silently we seem'd to speak––
So slowly moved about !
As we had lent her half our powers
To eke her living out !
Our very hopes belied our fears
Our fears our hopes belied––
We thought her dying when she slept,
And sleeping …
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