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Complains and moans and groans 'til all around About me friends have left, yet I must stay; The wind has left a mess strewn on the ground. The optimist I wish I knew, good chap ~ Expects the leaves and branches will just rot. It takes a while for limbs to lose their sap, To change from mess to vanish I think not. The Realist I also find in me Adjusts his thoughts and makes a game of it; The sails have wrought this ship of destiny And I shall clean the vessel bit by bit. I take the ax, the rake, the saw, and start; What comes to pass is sure to please the heart.
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