XII
When I watch the living meet,
  
And the moving pageant file
Warm and breathing through the street
  
Where I lodge a little while,
If the heats of hate and lust
  
In the house of flesh are strong,
Let me mind the house of dust
  
Where my sojourn shall be long.
In the nation that is not
  
Nothing stands that stood before;
There revenges are forgot,
  
And the hater hates no more;
Lovers lying two and two
  
Ask not whom they sleep beside,
And the bridegroom all night through
  
Never turns him to the bride.
A.E. Housman, A Shropshire Lad
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