Come heavy sleep, the image of true Death
And close up these my weary weeping eyes
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
And tears my heart with Sorrow's sigh-swoll'n cries.
Come and possess my tired thought-worn soul,
That living dies, till thou be on me stole.
A Memoir of Inspiration - Incorporating: Hill's Chronicle/Barddos/The Way of the Awenydd
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- Waldo Williams
(Awen arising from hiding and everything binding)

Nocturne
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