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Alfred Lord Tennyson - Will
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    O, well for him whose will is strong!
    He suffers, but he will not suffer long;
    He suffers, but he cannot suffer wrong.
    For him nor moves the loud world`s random mock,
    Nor all Calamity`s hugest waves confound,
    Who seems a promontory of rock,
    That, compassed round with turbulent sound,
    In middle ocean meets the surging shock,
    Tempest-buffeted, citadel-crowned.
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