Great poetry of Charles Pierre Baudelaire
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The old stoic by Emily Bronte

Riches I hold in light esteem,

And love I laugh to scorn;

And lust of fame was but a dream

That vanish’d with the morn:

And if I pray, the only prayer

That moves my lips for me

Is, “Leave the heart that now I bear,

And give me liberty!”

Yes, as my swift days near their goal,

‘Tis all that I implore:

In life and death a chainless soul,

With courage to endure

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