A great old giant, long ago, a pane of glass did drop
and shards flew all around the world and set on every rock.
Some find a piece and think they hold the very poise of life
but infinite they are, and all are wrought with beauty rife.
No man can mold the shards in one, no man can have them all,
but every man that searches well will find some, large and small.
And should that man be wrought upon to write about their piece
the world might be a better world, our joy at once increase.
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