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In winter I get up at night
And dress by yellow candle light.
In summer, quite the other way, I have to go to bed by day.

I have to go to bed and see,
The birds still hopping on the tree,
Or hear the grown-up people's feet, still going past me in the street.

And does it not seem hard to you,
When all the sky is clear and blue,
And I should like so much to play, to have to go to bed by day?

Photograph: Ayhan ÇAKAR - Poem: Bed In Summer by Robert Louis Stevenson