The Clod and the Pebble
"Love seeketh not itself to please,Nor for itself hath any care,But for another gives it ease,And builds a heaven in hell's despair."
So sang a little clod of clay,Trodden with the cattle's feet,But a pebble of the brookWarbled out these metres meet:
"Love seeketh only Self to please,To bind another to its delight,Joys in another's loss of ease,And builds a hell in heaven's despite."
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