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Sylvie and Bruno

Sylvie and Bruno
Contents
by
Lewis Carroll
Is all our Life, then but a dream
Seen faintly in the goldern gleam
Athwart Time’s dark resistless stream?
Bowed to the earth with bitter woe
Or laughing at some raree-show
We flutter idly to and fro.
Man’s little Day in haste we spend,
And, from its merry noontide, send
No glance to meet the silent end.
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