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<h3>A SCRAWL</h3><br/>
I want to sing something—but this is all—<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>I try and I try, but the rhymes
are dull</span><br/>
As though they were damp, and the echoes fall<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>Limp and unlovable.</span><br/>
<br/>
Words will not say what I yearn to say—<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>They will not walk as I want
them to,</span><br/>
But they stumble and fall in the path of the way<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>Of my telling my love for
you.</span><br/>
<br/>
Simply take what the scrawl is worth—<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>Knowing I love you as sun the
sod</span><br/>
On the ripening side of the great round earth<br/>
<span style='margin-left: 1em;'>That swings in the smile of
God.</span><br/>
<br/>
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