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STRAY BIRDS 215 waits to win back his own flowers as gifts from man's hands.

216 sad thoughts tease me asking me their own names.

217 service of the fruit is precious, the service of the flower is sweet, but let my service be the service of the  leaves in its shade of humble devotion.

218 heart has spread its sails to the idle winds for the shadowy island of Anywhere. [63]