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Under the vine I saw one morning-glory A tight unfolding bud Half out. He looked hard down into my lettuce-bed. He was thinking hard. He said I want a friend! I was standing there: I said, Well, I am here! Don't you see me? But he thought and thought. The next day I found him happy, Quite out, Looking about the world. The wind blew sweet airs, Carried away his perfume in the sun; And near by swung a new flower Uncurling its hands . . . He was not thoughtful Any more! |