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Enkomputiligis Don HARLOW |
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I chant a praise both strange and great for you, My latest friend to follow fleshless ways: The earth remembers you. The trees and grass Who hold their thoughts from humankind that pays No word to them nor listens to their light -- These carry still your hidden name, a turn In their green game. I will not say they mourn Your loss -- such human folly does not burn At the dark roots of their woodwind joy. The trees will tell you most men never were, But rushed through iron paths like Odin's hunt. Outracing life in some late quest, they blur In memory, like last year's dreams of death. But you came by a gentler path and stayed To hear the wandertalk of earth and sky, And found you had some word to add that made A minor harmony among the trees. A little thing, to listen to the wind And add your note to the thunder-peal. But of all your works and plays, my friend, This small deed made you -- keeps you -- real. |