Sully Prudhomme

In This World

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In this world all the flow'rs wither,
The sweet songs of the birds are brief;
I dream of summers that will last
Always!

In this world the lips touch but lightly,
And no taste of sweetness remains;
I dream of a kiss that will last
Always.

In this world ev'ry man is mourning
His lost friendship or his lost love;
I dream of fond lovers abiding
Always!

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Sully Prudhomme