Well, this was my Eugene’s conclusion. In early youth he’d been the prey Of every raging mad delusion, And uncurbed passions ruled the day. Quite pampered by a life of leisure, Enchanted with each passing pleasure, But disenchanted just as quick, Of all desire at length grown sick, And irked by fleet success soon after, He’d hear mid hum and hush alike His grumbling soul the hours strike, And smothered yawns with brittle laughter: And so he killed eight years of youth And lost life’s very bloom, in truth.
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