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Poem by Matthew Arnold
When I shall be divorced, some ten years hence, From this poor present self which I am now; When youth has done its tedious vain expense Of passions that for ever ebb and flow; Shall I not joy youth's heats are left behind, And breathe more happy in an even clime ?-- Ah no, for then I shall begin to find A thousand virtues in this hated time! Then I shall wish its agitations back, And all its thwarting currents of desire; Then I shall praise the heat which then I lack, And call this hurrying fever, generous fire; And sigh that one thing only has been lent To youth and age in common--discontent.
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