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When I have fears that I may cease to be Before my pen has glean'd my teeming brain, Before high piled books, in charactry, Hold like rich garners the full ripen'd grain, When I behold upon the night's starr'd face, Huge cloudy symbols of a high romance, And think that I may never live to trace Their shadows, with the magic hand of chance; And when I feel, fair creatures of an hour, That I shall never look upon thee more, Never have relish in the fairy power Of unreflecting love; -then on the shore Of the wide world I stand alone, and think Till love and fame to nothingness do sink. -Keats
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