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Pity would be no more, If we did not make somebody Poor:
And mutual fear brings peace; Till the selfish loves increase.
And the Catterpiller and Fly, Feed on the Mystery.
And it bears the fruit of Deceit, Ruddy and sweet to eat;
The Gods of the earth and sea, Sought thro’ Nature to find this Tree But their search was all in vain: There grows one in the Human Brain[.]

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