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All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.

Thomas Moore
Sweet, Losing, Lost
Thomas Moore (1823). “Irish Melodies, National Airs, Sacred Songs, Ballads, Etc”, p.229
All that's bright must fade, The brightest still the fleetest; All that's sweet was made But to be lost when sweetest.