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Poem	They have chiseled on my stone the words: 'His life was gentle, and the elements so mixed in him That nature might stand up and say to all the world, This was a man.' Those who knew me smile As they read this empty rhetoric. My epitaph should have been: 'Life was not gentle to him, And the elements so mixed in him That he made warfare on life, In the which he was slain.' While I lived I could not cope with slanderous tongues, Now that I am dead I must submit to an epitaph Graven by a fool!
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