  A bunch of fresh asters, purple and white and red, Stands on my table, fixed in a Mexican bowl, Thanks I did render for food which my body has fed, But not for the blossoms that gladdened and nourished my soul. The joy they awake may be truer thanksgiving, Though wordless, accepted by Him who did say: “Man by the bread alone shall not be living,” And bid us behold the fair lilies that grow by the way. |
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