760 Most she touched me by her muteness— Most she won me by the way She presented her small figure— Plea itself—for Charity— Were a Crumb my whole possession— Were there famine in the land— Were it my resource from starving— Could I such a plea withstand— Not upon her knee to thank me Sank this Beggar from the Sky— But the Crumb partook—departed— And returned On High— I supposed—when sudden Such a Praise began `Twas as Space sat singing To herself—and men— `Twas the Winged Beggar— Afterward I learned To her Benefactor Making GratitudeSourceThe script ran 0.001 seconds.
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