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The Prodigy.

Rating: 2.5

Tho' Rhyme serves the Thoughts of great Poets to fetter,
It sets off the Sense of small Poets the better.
When I've written in Prose, I often have found,
That my Sense, in a Jumble of Words, was quite drown'd.
In Verse, as in Armies, that march o'er the Plain,
The least Man among them is seen without Pain.
This they owe to good Order, it must be allow'd;
Else Men that are little, are lost in a Croud.

So much for Simile: Now, to be brief,

The following Lines come to tell you my Grief.
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7/29/2021 6:24:24 AM # 1.0.0.666