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A POET |
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A poet writes of simple things, Of his heart and known to few, His heart can sail on lofty wings, For it has a task to do. |
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The peace and joy that he can find, Comes from a quiet thing, His hope will always be for Any good that he can bring. |
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He looks for the good he can find As he lives his fading years, He can see a child's warm smile, Or the aged's falling tears. |
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A poet lives in quiet thoughts, And a Faith that God can bring-- The friendly, humble folks he knows, His heart and he can sing. |
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He sees the good in brotherhood, He walks in hope's good light; He sees the beauty of a sunset, And the silver stars at night. |
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He can see and write about, Birdsong with breaking day, Or a gentle rose wet with dew, As he goes on his way. |
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A poet writes of simply things, Of his heart and known to few. His heart can sail on lofty wings, For it has a task to do. |
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