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Authors:

Ah, love, let us be true. To one another! for the world, which seems. To lie before us like a land of dreams, So various, so beautiful, so new, Hath really neither joy, nor love, nor light, Nor certitude, nor peace, nor help for pain; And we are here as on a darkling plain. Swept with confused alarms of struggle and flight, Where ignorant armies clash by night.

Matthew Arnold