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The grave's a fine and private place, But none, I think, do there embrace.
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The forward Youth that would appear Must now forsake his Muses dear, Nor in the Shadows sing His Numbers languishing.
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But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near;...
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Self-preservation, nature's first great law, all the creatures, except man, doth awe.
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Or shatter too with him my curious frame: And let these wither, so that he may die,...
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