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<h2> THE TWO LIVES </h2>
<p>Now how could I, with gold to spare,<br/>
Who know the harlot's arms, and wine,<br/>
Sit in this green field all alone,<br/>
If Nature was not truly mine?<br/>
<br/>
That Pleasure life wakes stale at morn,<br/>
From heavy sleep that no rest brings:<br/>
This life of quiet joy wakes fresh,<br/>
And claps its wings at morn, and sings.<br/>
<br/>
So here sit I, alone till noon,<br/>
In one long dream of quiet bliss;<br/>
I hear the lark and share his joy,<br/>
With no more winedrops than were his.<br/>
<br/>
Such, Nature, is thy charm and power—<br/>
Since I have made the Muse my wife—<br/>
To keep me from the harlot's arms,<br/>
And save me from a drunkard's life.<br/></p>
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