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1 " For the first twenty years, since yesterday, I scarce believed thou could'st be gone away;For forty more, I fed on favors past,And forty' on hopes, that thou would'st they might last.Tears drowned one hundred, and sighs blew out two;A thousand, I did neither think, nor do,Or not divide, all being one thought of you;Or, in a thousand more, forget that too.Yet call not this, long life, but think that IAm, by being dead, immortal; can ghosts die? "
― John Donne , John Donne: Selected Poems