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As Christmas passes and the New Year looms,
Ending all our bright plans with various dooms,
Hope yet springs eternal, as new resolutions are made;
As we dig holes to bury the old with deft mental spade.

We set such high lofty goals, only to miss our mark;
Our odds would be better blindfolded, or in deepest dark.
Yet somehow our enthusiasm never wanes, our hopes falter not,
No matter how we misfire, no matter how abysmal our shot.

I often wonder why we bother, what force drives us on?
What hook do we hang our forlorn hopes upon?
Should we be proud of man's unquenchable hope,
Or is he the cosmos' most colossal, unlearning dope?

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