Page:Renascenceotherp00milluoft.pdf/61

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But all the things that I begin I leave before I'm through,-
There's little use in anything as far as I can see.

Love has gone and left me,-and the neighbors knock and borrow,
And life goes on forever like the gnawing of a mouse,
And to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow and to-morrow

There's this little street and this little house.

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