| Fear no more the heat o' the sun,
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| Nor the furious winter’s rages;
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| Thou thy worldly task hast done,
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| Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:
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| Golden lads and girls all must,
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| As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.
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| Fear no more the frown o' the great
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| Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;
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| Care no more to clothe and eat;
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| To thee the reed is as the oak:
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| The sceptre, learning, physic, must
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| All follow this, and come to dust.
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| Fear no more the lightning-flash,
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| Nor the all-dreaded thunder-stone;
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| Fear not slander, censure rash;
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| Thou hast finish’d joy and moan:
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| All lovers young, all lovers must
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| Consign to thee, and come to dust.
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| No exorciser harm thee!
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| Nor no witchcraft charm thee!
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| Ghost unlaid forbear thee!
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| Nothing ill come near thee!
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| Quiet consummation have;
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| And renownýed be thy grave! |