You make me think of many men
Once met, to be forgot again
Or merely resurrected
In a parenthesis of wit
That found them hastening through it
Too brisk to be inspected.
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Quotes of the Day
A feeling of sadness and longing that is not akin to pain, and resembles sorrow only as the mist resembles the rain
by James Whitcomb Riley
Reach your hand to me, my friend,
With its heartiest caress--
Sometime there will come an end
To its present faithfulness--
Sometime I may ask in vain
For the touch of it again,