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13 July 2010

Cover His Face,...He Died Young

When I got the news, I would have given anything for it not to be true. Day and night, for many weeks this poem ran through my head.

~Jason, my baby brother.

OH, come again to Astolat!
  I will not ask you to be kind.
And you may go when you will go,
  And I will stay behind.
I will not say how dear you are,
  Or ask you if you hold me dear,
Or trouble you with things for you
  The way I did last year.
So still the orchard, Lancelot,
  So very still the lake shall be,
You could not guess--though you should guess--
  What is become of me.
So wide shall be the garden-walk,
  The garden-seat so very wide,
You needs must think--if you should think--
  The lily maid had died.
Save that, a little way away,
  I'd watch you for a little while,
To see you speak, the way you speak,
  And smile,--if you should smile. 

--Second April, by Edna St Vincent Millay

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