Dear friends, we are turning 20 next year! Two years ago, 0.01% of
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Such a starved bank of moss
Till, that May-morn,
Blue ran the flash across:
Violets were born!
Sky -- what a scowl of cloud
Till, near and far,
Ray on ray split the shroud:
Splendid, a star!
World -- how it walled about
Life with disgrace,
Till God's own smile came out:
That was thy face!
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