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A BOOK OF NURSERY RHYMES
Black we are, but much admired,
Men seek for us till they are tired,
We tire the horse but comfort man ;
Tell me this riddle if you can.
Coal.
Higher than a house, higher than a tree
Oh, whatever can that be?
A star.
Formed long ago, yet made to-day,
Employed while others sleep ;
What few would like to give away,
Nor any wish to keep.
A bed.
