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A poem's life and death dependeth still Not on the poet's wits, but reader's will.
Alexander Brome -
Something there is moves me to love, and I Do know I love, but know not how, nor why.
Alexander Brome
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I have been in love, and in debt, and in drink, this many and many a year.
Alexander Brome -
'Twas drink made me fall in love, And love made me run into debt, And though I have struggled and struggled and strove, I cannot get out of them yet.
Alexander Brome -
What art thou, life, that we, must court thy stay? A breath one single gasp must puff away! A short-lived flower, that with the day must fade! A fleeting vapor, and an empty shade! A stream that silently but swiftly glides To meet eternity's immeasured tides! A being, lost alike by pain or joy? A fly can kill it, or a worm destroy! Impair'd by labor, and by ease undone, Commenced in tears, and ended in a groan.
Alexander Brome