The Lower Room
E. (Edith) Nesbit
How soft the lamplight falls On pictures, books, And pleasant coloured walls And curtains drawn! How happily one looks On glowing flame and ember; Ah, why should one remember Dew and dawn! Here age and wisdom sit Calm and discreet, Life and the fruit of it Are here in truth, Whose gathering once was sweet— Wisdom and age! Well met! Yet neither can forget Folly and youth!
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