There was an Old Man who said, 'How
Shall I flee from that horrible cow?
I will sit on this stile,
And continue to smile,
Which may soften the heart of that cow.'
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I found there was only one way to look thin: hang out with fat people.
by Harriet Monroe
The forest was a shrine for her,
A temple richly dressed;
And worshippers the tall trees were,
Each to his prayer addressed.
Scarce dared I lift my eyes, or stir,
So deeply was I blessed.