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friendship poetry

though i am little as all little things
there was a strangeness on your lips
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
the sky
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
i despise my friends more than you
that year
green afternoon serene and bright
there are three ways in which men take
afraid no more, i say
the hypocritic days
above them all, looking down

 



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