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Poem	LXXX. ? OF LIFE AND DEATH. The ports of death are sins ; of life, good deeds ; Through which our merit leads us to our meeds. How wilful blind is he, then, that would stray, And hath it, in his powers, to make his way ! This world death's region is, the other life's ; And here, it should be one of our first strifes, So to front death, as men might judge us past it : For good men but see death, the wicked taste it.
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