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Many of my favourites are lamenting the shortness of our time on Earth.
So, we'll go no more a roving
So late into the night,
Though the heart be still as loving,
And the moon be still as bright.
For the sword outwears its sheath,
And the soul wears out the breast,
And the heart must pause to breathe,
And love itself have rest.
Though the night was made for loving,
And the day returns too soon,
Yet we'll go no more a roving
By the light of the moon.
Byron
Had we but World enough, and Time
Marvell
Rage, rage, against the dying of the Light.
Thomas
And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow
Yeats
"My name is Ozymandias, king of kings:
Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"
Nothing beside remains. Round the decay
Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare
The lone and level sands stretch far away
Shelley
Others:
Your sons and your daughters are beyond your command
Dylan
My love, she speaks like silence
Without ideals or violence
She doesn't have to say she's faithful,
Yet she's true, like ice, like fire
Dylan
Like one who, on a lonely road,
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And, having once turned round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread
Coleridge
Things fall apart, the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world
...
And what rough beast, its hour come round at last
Slouches toward Bethlehem to be born
Yeats
There are holes in the sky,
Where the rain gets in.
But they're ever so small;
That's why rain is thin
Milligan |
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