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    To the "Wife"
    by Breton Braley

        You say I'm "getting used" to you,
        That where I was once enthused to you,
    Regarding all your loveliness enchanted,
        I'll now accept it prosily
        And cease to paint it rosily,
    In brief, you say I'm taking you for granted!

        Your charges made so tearfully
        Are here admitted cheerfully.
    No shame or guilt my snowy brow is wreathing.
        For you've become a part of me,
        The very soul and heart of me.
    I'm used to you--as I'm used to breathing.

        I'm used to you as steadily,
        I'm used to counting readily
    Upon my heart to keep my pulses going;
        I'm used to you-as flowers to
        The sunshine and the showers too;
    Or trees are used to sap that keeps them growing.

        I'm used to you--each way of you,
        The moods both sad and gay of you.
    I'm used to you--to everything about you;
        I'm used to you; that's shown to be
        A fact. Yes, I've grown to be
    So used to you I couldn't live without you!

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