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Poem by George MacDonald
I. I have only one foot, but thousands of toes; My one foot stands well, but never goes; I've a good many arms, if you count them all, But hundreds of fingers, large and small; From the ends of my fingers my beauty grows; I breathe with my hair, and I drink with my toes; I grow bigger and bigger about the waist Although I am always very tight laced; None e'er saw me eat-I've no mouth to bite! Yet I eat all day, and digest all night. In the summer, with song I shake and quiver, But in winter I fast and groan and shiver. II. There is a plough that hath no share, Only a coulter that parteth fair; But the ridges they rise To a terrible size Or ever the coulter comes near to tear: The horses and ridges fierce battle make; The horses are safe, but the plough may break. Seed cast in its furrows, or green or sear, Will lift to the sun neither blade nor ear: Down it drops plumb Where no spring-times come, Nor needeth it any harrowing gear; Wheat nor poppy nor blade has been found Able to grow on the naked ground. For My Grandchildren Who is it that sleeps like a top all night, And wakes in the morning so fresh and bright That he breaks his bed as he gets up, And leaves it smashed like a china cup? IV. I've a very long nose, but what of that? It is not too long to lie on a mat! I have very big jaws, but never get fat: I don't go to church, and I'm not a church rat! I've a mouth in my middle my food goes in at, Just like a skate's-that's a fish that's a flat. In summer I'm seldom able to breathe, But when winter his blades in ice doth sheathe I swell my one lung, I look big and I puff, And I sometimes hiss.-There, that's enough!
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