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Being Danish, HC Anderson is like a cultural thing for me. I found this poem and couldn't help thinking about all the cherubs in heaven. The Dying Child By Hans Christian Andersen. Mother, I'm tired, and I would fain be sleeping; Let me repose upon thy bosom sick; But promise me that thou wilt leave off weeping, Because thy tears fall hot upon my cheek. Here it is cold: the tempest raveth madly; ...