"If every man's internal care Were written on his brow, How many would our pity share Who raise our envy now?"

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Oh! weep not that our beauty wears Beneath the wings of Time; That age o'erclouds the brow with cares That once was raised sublime... But mourn the inward wreck we feel As hoary years depart, And Time's effacing fingers steal Young feelings from the heart!

— Robert Montgomery