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The wayfarer

 The wayfarer,
Perceiving the pathway to truth,
Was struck with astonishment.
It was thickly grown with weeds.
"Ha," he said, "I see that none has passed here In a long time.
" Later he saw that each weed Was a singular knife.
"Well," he mumbled at last, "Doubtless there are other roads.

Poem by Stephen Crane
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