“Will”
My dear friend Will,
This is a simple poem
That I am trying to compose
For you. Receive it as if
I were giving you an Im-
Measurable fragment
Of everything that I think and feel.
My sweet friend Will,
This simple poem is a rose
That changes its color every instant.
It knows, ó it knows, it always knows
My heart, any heart, full or empty!
Why is chance even inconstant?
Ó, my gracious friend Will,
Friendship is a bridge to good will!
With joy and wonder, my verses will fill...
For you, because this is an
Innocent poem, yes, just one
That I am trying to compose...
While I hide in old drawers some clothes
Of the Infinite and the Solitude.
This is a simple poem
That I am trying to compose
For you. Receive it as if
I were giving you an Im-
Measurable fragment
Of everything that I think and feel.
My sweet friend Will,
This simple poem is a rose
That changes its color every instant.
It knows, ó it knows, it always knows
My heart, any heart, full or empty!
Why is chance even inconstant?
Ó, my gracious friend Will,
Friendship is a bridge to good will!
With joy and wonder, my verses will fill...
For you, because this is an
Innocent poem, yes, just one
That I am trying to compose...
While I hide in old drawers some clothes
Of the Infinite and the Solitude.
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