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In such thin dirt

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All lying things take root and try
the slightest soil to unearth
a deeper purchase in the sky

From laden clouds may flowers spring
in loving rains love what they bring
each evening shower, a pale leaf made
to worship sun, they grow the shade

Now what proud towers their canopies
No sapling could understand such trees
so august in gale, soon fain to give
as if those that stood unbowed could live

But beneath the snow they show their will
in unbent limbs now bare and still
shadows above a swaying field
over fertile furrows, long grown to yield
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