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The Vine | ||
| Longer grows the creeping vine. It is happy, rain or shine, Stretching out along the rail. Will its vigor never fail? Leaves of bright and shining green Are so glad they can be seen. Every week a leaf or two Comes unrolled and into view. 'Tis a vine that speaks of pow'r, Growing longer by the hour, Showing us that we must grow In the things we do and know. | ||
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