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best friend poem

she might have known it in the earlier spring
what do i owe to you
stir
a look is but a ray
what spiteful chance steals unawares
they ask me where i've been
it tells of good old times
i never knew the earth had so much gold
white foam flower, red flame flower
do the boys and girls still go
winged shadows sweeping by
along a river-side
sweet and strong
once this soft turf

 



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