Gille Marbotte

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Gille Marbotte Social Profile

If debugging is the process of removing software bugs, then programming must be the process of putting them in.

  • Phone Number *** - **** 7799
  • E-Mailorganiclion517***@******.***
  • Birthday12 January 1958
  • Education -
  • Address Schulweg No: 7799
  • CityLangenhagen
  • CountryGermany

Gille Marbotte Live Statistics

Gille Marbotte have a 485 following and 850 followers. Gille Marbotte's world rankings is 468. This page is based on Gille Marbotte's online data & informations. You can find information birth date, place of residence, phone number, address and social media accounts on Gille Marbotte's page.

1Followers
1Following
1Popularity
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Gille Marbotte's Life Motto

Things do not change, we change. ..

About Gille Marbotte

Gille Marbotte living Schulweg No: 7799 Langenhagen Germany

When I hear that you express an affection so warm,
Ne'er think, my beloved, that I do not believe;
For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm,
And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive.

Yet, still, this fond bosom regrets, while adoring,
That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear;
That age will come on, when remembrance, deploring,
Contemplates the scenes of her youth with a tear;

That the time must arrive, when, no longer retaining
Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze,
When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining
Prove nature a prey to decay and disease.

'Tis this, my beloved, which spreads gloom o'er my features,
Though I ne'er shall presume to arraign the decree,
Which God has proclaim'd as the fate of his creatures,
In the death which will one day deprive you of me.

Mistake not, sweet sceptic, the cause of emotion,
No doubt can the mind of your lover invade;
He worships each look with such faithful devotion,
A smile can enchant, or a tear can dissuade.

But as death, my beloved, soon or late shall o'ertake us,
And our breasts, which alive with such sympathy glow,
Will sleep in the grave till the blast shall awake us,
When calling the dead, in earth's bosom laid low,-

Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure,
Which from passion like ours may unceasingly flow;
Let us pass round the cup of love's bliss in full measure,
And quaff the contents as our nectar below.

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