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CHANGEABLE
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CHANGEABLE



Beneath an apple tree she sat
Amid bright leaf and flower,
Telling of what she would do,
Were it within her power:
She'd civilize the heathen poor,—
She'd meet the wary foe,
And drive them till their trackless paths
Were through eternal snow.

With strong nerve she would care for those
Who are stricken down in war
And cheer the sick and suffering ones
Without a bit of awe.
She'd soothe the fevered ones to rest
And bathe each aching head,—
And never would she shrink from pain,
But bravely work, instead.

But ah! what caused her cheek to pale
Ere she had ceased to speak—
What made her start, with fingers clenched,
And give that awful shriek?