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FASTING.

_From a very old work, "Noble Numbers."_


Is this a feast to keep,
The larder leane,
And clean,
From fat of veales and sheep?

Is it to quit the dish
Of flesh yet still
To fill
The platter high with _fish_?

Is it to fast an _hour_,
Or, ragged to go
Or show
A downcast look or snore?

No, 'tis a fast to dole
Thy sheaf of wheat
And meat
Unto the hungry soul.

It is to fast from strife,