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‹ What soft, cherubic creatures • PHILOSOPHY. ›
September 15, 2008 in Life, Poems | No comments
Who never wanted, — maddest joy Remains to him unknown: The banquet of abstemiousness Surpasses that of wine.
Within its hope, though yet ungrasped Desire’s perfect goal, No nearer, lest reality Should disenthrall thy soul.
Tags: hope, joy, soul
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