Nature’s never made
A thing of a second grade,
So a birdie said.
The least, there’s one side,
Its beauty wherein abides,
Howso it’s decried.
Rose lovely is born.
Of seers that see world is shorn
That abuses thorn.
Flowers have their spell,
So does leaves’ beauty as well,
Not everything’s smell.
Cut out, man, thine grin,
Flowers they’re in shades of green
That adds to the scene.
Cute looks...
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