'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.
Sweet is every sound, sweeter the voice, but every sound is sweet.
That loss is common would not make My own less bitter, rather more: Too common! Never morning wore To evening, but some heart did break.
So now I have sworn to bury All this dead body of hate I feel so free and so clear By the loss of that dead weight
The still affection of the heart Became an outward breathing type, That into stillness past again, And left a want unknown before; Although the loss had brought us pain, That loss but made us love the more.
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