Is there a sun that warms itself?
A spring that drinks its water?
A tree that eats its own fruit?
A breeze that inhales its matter?
Do the stars their own sparkle see?
Or the ocean its own girth?
Does the rainbow its own splendour strut,
Or fields of grain know their worth?
So look to be a kindred soul
That lives not for its own,
But gives without recompense
Unasking, unbeknown.
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