The trolls are always listening;
They whisper when I sleep.
They linger in the garden
And among the foliage creep.
I hear them when I’m waking
From a dark and fretful dream,
To feel their knobby fingers
Knitting up my dream-wake seam.
Their presence makes me angry
And it fills me up with dread;
Why ever do the night trolls
Want to join me in my bed?
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