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- Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care,
The death of each day's life, sore labour's bath,
Balm of hurt minds, great Nature's second course,
Chief nourisher in life's feast.
Finally, finally. It's been such a week.
And my plants arrived.
- To sleep, perchance to dream. . .
I did. Of parrots.
Well, one parrot. A green one, of course.
