Come, heavy sleep, The Image of true Death,
And close up these my Very weeping eyes.
Whose spring of tears doth stop my vital breath,
And tears my heart with Sorrow`s Sigh-swoll`n cries.
Come and posses my tired thought-worn soul,
That living dies, till thou an me be stole
Dowland
http://de.youtube.com/watch?v=LCfhqh0u20c
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