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And Youth has spent his wealth, and bought The knowledge he would fain Change for forgetfulness, and live His dreaming life again.

I'm weary, weary: day-dreams, years, I've seen alike depart, And sullen Care and Discontent Hang brooding o'er my heart.

Another year, another year,— Alas! and must it be That Time's most dark and weary wheel Must turn again for me?