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Byron lives on
but died around 1822
a young man of around thirty five
Only just started his life
His poetry was quite alive
He lived at Newstead Abby
A fortunate place to be
As far as I can see
But traveled far and wide so they said or have I lied?
A fortune soul but with a life of toil
Died in his youth
Is I guess the truth!
But his roof
Upon his tortuous head
Is a place of beauty!
So it is seen and said!
"Bertha."

"Yes, gorgeous."

"I've been thinking..."

"Did it hurt?"

"Aha-ha, no, it was easy. Shall we get married this coming Valentine's Day?"

"That's a bit short notice, babe."

"The truth is, it's been booked for a while—St. Peter's Church, 2 p.m. Everything is arranged: we have flowers, invites ready to go, and I've even got you a dress fitting appointment for tomorrow afternoon. All you have to do is say yes."

"Oh, babe... oh, my love..."

"Hey, I didn't mean to be pushy. Oh... I've made you cry. I'm so very sorry, I'll cancel..."

"No, you won't! I'm so happy. Kiss me."

"Is that a yes?"

"Of course it is! YES! YES! YES!"
My optimism keeps me going
Knowing
It’ll all come crashing down
Sometimes

Pessimism has no place
In my world
Of simple grace
Disappointments I have to face

Sometimes I fall down
Then I pick me up
The vitamins help
With a half full cup
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