A Little Memory

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White in the moonlight,
  Wet with dew,
  We have known the languor
  Of being two.

  We have been weary
  As children are,
  When over them, radiant,
  A stooping star,

  Bends their Good-Night,
  Kissed and smiled:--
  Each was mother,
  Each was child.

  Child, from your forehead
  I kissed the hair,
  Gently, ah, gently:
  And you were

  Mistress and mother
  When on your breast
  I lay so safely
  And could rest.

© Aldous Huxley