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A Blade of Grass

by Ruby Archer

A blade of grass is bending
Above the moaning stream,
In sympathy is blending
Where troubles only seem.

The waters have no sorrow,
Real anguish ne'er can know;
And yet the grass will borrow
And bear the waters' woe.

It quivers with compassion
And quakes with foreign fears,
Then yields to loving passion,
And weeps the torrent's tears.

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