Tell me not in mounful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream!
For the soul is dead the slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.
Life is real! Life is ernest!
And the grave is not its goal;
Dust thou art, to dust retunest,
Was not spoken of the soul.
Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way;
But to act, that each
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