• Pedagogic

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    I walked towards the falling woods
    to teach the trees all that I could

    of time and birth, the language of men,
    the virtues of hate and loving.

    They stood with their fingers flaming,
    Listened to me with a serious mien:

    I knew the footnotes, all the text,
    my words were precise and correct—

    I was sure that they were learning—
    till one tree spoke, speaking in dolor,
    to ask why I never changed color.

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