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Had we but world enough, and time.
And while thy willing soul transpires.
And yonder all before us lie, Deserts of vast eternity.
Now let us sport us while we may.
Now, like amorous birds of prey.
… up into one ball.
Thus, though we cannot make our sun.
youlookgoodlikethat: Shelley CW But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near. —Andrew Marvell, To his coy Mistress.
