Being Born In A Duck Yard Does

Then He Rustled His Feathers, Curved His Slender Neck, And Cried Joyfully, From The Depths Of His Heart, 'i Never Dreamed Of Such Happiness As This, While I Was An Ugly Duckling.

Well, Yes: People Write Poems When They Are In Love, But A Wise Man Will Not Print Them.

Some Are Created For Beauty, And Some For Use; And There Are Some Which One Can Do Without Altogether.

There Was Once A Bundle Of Matches, And They Were Frightfully Proud Because Of Their High Origin. Their Family Tree, That Is To Say The Great Pine Tree Of Which They Were Each A Little Splinter, Had Been The Giant Of The Forest.

Each Soldier Was The Living Image Of The Others, But There Was One Who Was A Bit Different. He Had Only One Leg, For He Was The Last To Be Cast And The Tin Had Run Out. Still, There He Stood, Just As Steadfast On His One Leg As The Others On Their Two; And He Is The Tin Soldier We Are Going To Hear About.