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On a Squirrel, Crossing the Road in Autumn, In New England | The Gladdest Thing
It is what he does not know, Crossing the road under the elm trees, About the mechanism of my car, About the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, About Mozart, India, Arcturus, That wins my praise. I engage At once in whirling squirrel-praise. He obeys the orders of nature Without knowing them. It is what he does not... Read more »