The Sparrow

There was one an old man,

The very last of his clan.

He had a great deal of wealth,

But alas, very poor health.

Once a little sparrow flew in,

Itching for water, painfully thin.

In disgust, he shoved it away,

And heartlessly resumed his day.

Gradually, his health suffered,

His supposed friends disappeared.

He lay by his lavish table,

A mere, useless vegetable.

He reached for the bowl of water,

But his limbs refused his order.

The little bird came along,

Now hearty and strong.

It stopped mid-flight,

Pitying the man's plight.

It clasped the bowl with its beak,

And flew to his cheek.

Slowly, it quenched his thirst.

As gentle as a nurse.

He raised his eyes in gratitude,

Lamenting his past deeds, so crude.

Be that sparrow, thoughtful and kind,

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind.

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