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On The Progress Of The Soul... - Poem by John Donne

Forget this rotten world, and unto thee Let thine own times as an old story be. Be not concern’d; study not why, nor when; Do not so much as not believe a man. For though to err, be worst, to try truths forth Is far more business than this world is worth. I’he world is but a carcass; thou art fed By it, but as a worm, that carcass bred; And why shouldst thou, poor worm, consider…
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