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Robert Laurence Binyon - Seven Years
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Seven years have flown like seven days,
 Like seven days of shining weather,
 Since we, forsaking single ways,
 Trod earth and faced the skies together.
 The old is new, the new is old,
 And who shall reckon, one or seven,
 The years that Time has never told?
 He numbers not the days of Heaven.
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