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By Harry
For the sad old earth must borrow its mirth, But has trouble enough for its own.
The echoes bound a joyful sound, But shrink from voicing care.
Feast, and your halls are crowed; Fast, and the world goes by.
Succeed and give, and it helps you live, But no man can help you die.
There is room in the halls of pleasure For large and lordly train,
But one by one we must file on Through the narrow aisles of pain.
Themes
Philosophy of the Life Not about people are bad NO ONE WILL COME(alone drink)
Mood: Wisdom
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Poetic Devices
Personification
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Imagery
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Hyperbole
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Interesting Thought
about will 1 2
Reference
http://www.paranoias.org/2013/07/silence-is-grey-by-juanmoranta/ http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:E-W-Wilcox.jpg
http://davidduchemin.com
http://www.davidhealdphotographs.com/