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290. A Moral.

I had a little spot of ground
Where blade nor blossom grew,
Though the bright sunshine all around
Life-giving radiance threw.
I mourned to see a spot so bare
Of leaves of beautiful green,
And thought of bowers, and blossoms fair,
I frequently had seen.

Some seeds of various kinds lay by--
I knew not what they were--
But, rudely turning o'er the soil,
I strewed them thickly there;
And day by day I watched them spring
From out the fertile earth,
And hoped for many a lovely thing
Of beauty and of worth.

But as I marked their leaves unfold
As weeds before my view,
And saw how stubbornly and bold
The thorns and nettles grew--
I sighed to think that I had done,
Unwittingly, a thing
That, where a beauteous bower should thrive,
But worthless weeds did spring.

And thus I mused; the things we do
With little heed or ken,
May prove of worthless growth, and strew
With thorns the paths of men;
For little deeds, like little seeds,
May flowers prove, or noxious weeds!


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