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Posts Tagged ‘old wine’

Fearfully, wonderfully made is true,

For the lad a-fork a burro’s back,

Who slept last night on a coffee sack,

In some poor, distant, Andes ranch shack.

 

It’s true for the bluest blood of you,

Aboard a yacht, who passively dine

On caviar, lobster, and old wine,

Always thinking of “me,” “my,” and “mine.”

 

Social animals of highest crust,

And dregs of men smeared with labor’s dust,

Are all alike, all made in fearful ways,

Which ought (everyday) us to amaze. -eab, 4/9/08

 

Written after visiting the Dickinons in Bogata, Colombia

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