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How sad and sweet a thing is memory!
A thing enough to complete or defeat
Just by believing in one’s own story
And all have stories of truth and deceit.
Memories! how many I would forget!
How free life would be without that long chain;
Picture not having to pay such a debt:
No sighs; nothing to sigh after again.
O! but then what of things sublime?
Of joyful flowing hearts and moments kind
And such that make soft the passage of time?
Still, once gone, how these ghosts can haunt the mind.
O! but perhaps Heaven would not be so
If not countered by what we knew of woe.

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This entry was posted in Sonnets.

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