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Short poem about the beauty in all things. |
| From afar I heard a cry, Faintly echo through the rye. Weak and weary came the sound As I searched the yielding ground. A baby robin, frail and small Sheltered by the grass so tall, Was sending out an urgent plea To nest again within its tree. In my hands it lay so still Displaying such a mighty will, Suaded by a dauntless grace I tucked it back, within its place. |