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best friend poem

up from the south at break of day
i saw him once before
sleep, gray brother of death
why then, must we see?
the fragrance came
come down at dawn from windless hills
they may talk of love in a cottage
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
calm as that second summer
splendid and terrible your love
doubtless i remember still
have we no shame?
i love to steal awhile away

 



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