He goes for his morning walk,

with his ambling, enthusiastic gait;

he knows he’s lucky, and sunshine kisses his hair - 

not yet grey, barely greying. He of fortunate fate,

makes his way over the field, calmly,

unharmed, green grass nipping his heels, and late

summer flowers bow to him. The sheep watch curiously,

then defer to the master of the estate.

The children whoo...

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