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 Listen, children:
Your father is dead.
From his old coats I'll make you little jackets; I'll make you little trousers From his old pants.
There'll be in his pockets Things he used to put there, Keys and pennies Covered with tobacco; Dan shall have the pennies To save in his bank; Anne shall have the keys To make a pretty noise with.
Life must go on, And the dead be forgotten; Life must go on, Though good men die; Anne, eat your breakfast; Dan, take your medicine; Life must go on; I forget just why.

by Edna St Vincent Millay
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