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“I Look into my Glass”
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| I LOOK into my glass, |
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| And view my wasting skin, |
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| And say, “Would God it came to pass |
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| My heart had shrunk as thin!” |
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| For then, I, undistrest |
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| By hearts grown cold to me, |
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| Could lonely wait my endless rest |
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| With equanimity. |
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| But Time, to make me grieve, |
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| Part steals, lets part abide; |
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| And shakes this fragile frame at eve |
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With throbbings of noontide.
The End Thomas Hardy 1840-1928
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