Life is a garden through which we pass,some have the roses,& some the weeds; Each have a heritage left to them,beautiful flowers,or worthless seeds. But canker will spoil the fairest of blooms,needs will oer'run if neglected,when found; No one can choose what his plot shall be,But each can make the best of his ground. We canot all have the blossoms rare,The Branching trees nor the fruit divine,But the rain and sun are equal to all,And beauty can live in your heart & mine. The master will know what our share has been the Evils conquered,the triumphs won; And the prize shall be given for all someday,Not what we've had,but for what we've done."
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