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88

As by the dead we love to sit,
Become so wondrous dear—
As for the lost we grapple
Tho' all the rest are here—

In broken mathematics
We estimate our prize
Vast—in its fading ration
To our penurious eyes!

Added: 19 Aug 2002 | Last Read: 4 Sep 2026 12:39 AM | Viewed: 8577 times

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