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Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-1861)

THAT out of sight is out of mind
Is true of most we leave behind;
It is not, sure, nor can be true,
My own and dearest love, of you.

They were my friends, 'twas sad to part;
Almost a tear began to start;
But yet as things run on they find
That out of sight is out of mind.

For men that will not idlers be
Must lend their hearts to things they see;
And friends who leave them far behind,
Being out of sight are out of mind.


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