Pity me that the heart is slow to learn What the swift mind beholds at every turn.
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April comes like an idiot, babbling and strewing flowers.
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My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But, ah, my foes, and oh, my friends, It gives a lovely light.
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My candle burns at both ends It will not last the night But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends - It gives a lovely light.
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Down, down, down into the darkness of the grave Gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind;...
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