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Was so proud of my poetry,
Thought rich and famous I would be,
Went to a prophet, said, "Old man,
predict my future if you can."
I held my breath so anxiously
As he gazed in his crystal ball,
He started, "Thy fate I can see--"
I asked, "When will I get the call
to take my place among the Bards?"
He shook his head and answered me,
"Thy future lies in greeting cards."
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