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Poem	God gave a loaf to every bird, But just a crumb to me; I dare not eat it, though I starve,-- My poignant luxury To own it, touch it, prove the feat That made the pellet mine,-- Too happy in my sparrow chance For ampler coveting. It might be famine all around, I could not miss an ear, Such plenty smiles upon my board, My garner shows so fair. I wonder how the rich may feel,-- An Indiaman--an Earl? I deem that I with but a crumb Am sovereign of them all.
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