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Our little Kinsmen’—after Rain
In plenty may be seen,
A Pink and Pulpy multitude
The tepid Ground upon.
 
A needless life, it seemed to me
Until a little Bird
As to a Hospitality
Advanced and breakfasted.
 
As I of He, so God of Me
I pondered, may have judged,
And left the little Angle Worm
With Modesties enlarged.

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