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The Armful

 For every parcel I stoop down to seize
I lose some other off my arms and knees,
And the whole pile is slipping, bottles, buns,
Extremes too hard to comprehend at.
once Yet nothing I should care to leave behind.
With all I have to hold with~ hand and mind And heart, if need be, I will do my best.
To keep their building balanced at my breast.
I crouch down to prevent them as they fall; Then sit down in the middle of them all.
I had to drop the armful in the road And try to stack them in a better load.

Poem by Robert Frost
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