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So may you know the pleasures of your
state,
Intoxicated by the breath of being,
X'ing out what pain must come of late,
The residue of riches beyond seeing.
Yet one might well agree without agreeing.
For now it is enough to live the day,
In which much passes by, but little moves.
Vistas unsurpassed may come your way,
Each proof of some vast good that nothing proves. |
