E'er swiftly flows the tide
That measures our achievements
As a border ringing round
From the moment of inception
To the moment that we died.
What virtue then is boasting
When all praise is eulogy
And those that we inspire
Will never know whose effigy
They honor with faint words?
For as the grown child
They speak of wild
Moments remembered falsely--
One perfect smile
Another infinite trial.
But I perceive
Each one of us receive
Simply enough to believe.
Thus we conceive
A means to recede.
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