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— William Butler Yeats"Once more the storm is howling, and half hid Under this cradle-hood and coverlid My child sleeps on."
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The Danaan children laugh, in cradles of wrought gold, And clap their hands together, and half close their eyes, For they will ride the North when the ger-eagle flies, With heavy whitening wings, and a heart fallen cold.
— William Butler Yeats
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From the cradle to the grave, temptations all around. But no matter how good the fix, its gonna take you down.
— Keith Urban
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