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I think that I shall never see An e-mail lovely as a tree. However well the service works, However free of nasty quirks Like letters lost in cyberspace, And garbage that I must erase To see what some poor soul might need, And things attached that I can't read Without some recent program I Don't have and must go out and buy-- Even if such were not the case, There's still the problem of the pace At which the stuff appears to me: So different from any tree. Behold a bunch of trees together In sunny or in stormy weather Stretch graceful limbs against the sky Or bend to earth; you can rely On trees to do one thing quite well: No matter where they choose to dwell They will not shock you with their numbers Because each seed they scatter slumbers A decent while within the earth Before it springs to radiant birth, And as it grows it takes its time While you behold its charming climb. You watch it, and you grow serene Viewing the slowly changing scene; And you can plan around a tree Because it grows like you and me. But oh, Good Lord, the Internet Shows no such mercy; I am met Each morn with such a flood of mail That my best will can scarce avail To cope with the onrushing tide Of more than I can well abide Of stuff that needs my prompt attention Until I curse the foul invention That keeps me up and makes me go, Makes me wonder, will it slow Enough for me to eat my lunch-- Oh, no, here comes another bunch!! I fear I'll sink in cyber-fen And never see a tree again. |
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