Tragic Books
That I have lived I know; that I
Have loved is quite as plain;
Why read of Lear, a wild old king,
Of Caesar stabbed in vain?
The bitter fool, the Dover heath,
The stumbling in the grass
I know. I know the windy crowd,
And Rome as in a glass.
Life taught them all. These later days
Are full enough of rain;
I will not weep unless I must,
Or break my heart again.
Have loved is quite as plain;
Why read of Lear, a wild old king,
Of Caesar stabbed in vain?
The bitter fool, the Dover heath,
The stumbling in the grass
I know. I know the windy crowd,
And Rome as in a glass.
Life taught them all. These later days
Are full enough of rain;
I will not weep unless I must,
Or break my heart again.
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