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Clouds | ||
| There's a massive bank of cloud Resting on the peaks today. Like a solemn mourning shroud, Lying there as if to stay. 'Tis a welcome drink for trees, Helping them to stretch and grow, But alas it may not please Those who see it from below. Many things in life are mixed, Bringing good and bringing ill. People may be caught betwixt, Looking for the Master's will. | ||
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