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For
still
there
are
so
many
things
that
I
have
never
seen:
in
every
wood,
in
every
spring
there
is
a
different
green.
I
sit
beside
the
fire
and
think
of
people
long
ago,
and
people
who
will
see
a
world
that
I
shall
never
know.
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