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Being Useful | ||
| If I were a gnarled old tree I would try to useful be. In the sun I'd offer shade To the passing lad or maid. Moss could thrive upon my arm, High above the passing harm There is room for vines of green, And the birds that could be seen. I would not at all complain, And would welcome heavy rain. Like the tree I can do good With my own imperfect wood. | ||
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