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Here, in this little Bay, Full of tumultuous life and great repose, Where, twice a day, The purposeless, glad ocean comes and goes, Under high cliff, and far from the huge town, I sit me down.
For want of me the world's course will not fail; When all its work is done, the lie shall rot; The truth is great, and shall prevail, When none cares whether it prevail or not.
There is some consolation, I suppose, in the fact that Coventry Patmore's "Magna Est Veritas" was written long before today's hype industry bestrode the world like the malign colossus it has since become--and so the poem must be supposed to describe a sad truth about the human condition ...
Source: HighBeam Research, Versions of the truth.(The media)