12 Wilt thou trust him to bring home thy seed, and gather it into thy threshing-floor?
13 The wing of the ostrich beats joyously -- But is it the stork's pinion and plumage?
14 For she leaveth her eggs to the earth, and warmeth them in the dust,
15 And forgetteth that the foot may crush them, or that the beast of the field may trample them.
16 She is hardened against her young ones, as though they were not hers; her labour is in vain, without her concern.
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