历史一贯的可悲正在于此
the hardest thing to govern is the heart
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My prime of youth is but a frost of cares,
My feast of joy is but a dish of pain,
My crop of corn is but a field of tares,
And all my good is but vain hope of gain;
The day is past; and yet I saw no sun,
And now I live,and now my life is done.
