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Poem	A Saucer holds a Cup In sordid human Life But in a Squirrel's estimate A Saucer hold a Loaf. A Table of a Tree Demands the little King And every Breeze that run along His Dining Room do swing. His Cutlery -- he keeps Within his Russer Lips -- To see it flashing when he dines Do Birmingham eclipse -- Convicted -- could we be Of our Minutiae The smallest Citizen that flies Is heartier than we --
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