  A poet’s thoughts are as deep As the old sad sea, And he holds love for his work That will always be. A joy to his heart That comes in dreams, sweet dreams, And he’s a humble fellow, Just as humble as he seems. His heart is very tender And this is easy explained, For he’s always thinking To relieve, some heart of it’s pain. Night and day he labors, With gift he loves so well, And when he’ll ever tire, Time, can only tell. |
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