XXIX.

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The finch he splashes colors brightly

Frames his song above me sprightly

Takes my hand a melody to show

In drab, his song alone colors the ‘bow.

 

Peacock on the other hand carries his gift in strut

To show he is the top most of his rut

Clumsy egotism hoards his gold for him alone

Threaten to expose his plume? He run hides behind his throne.

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