The things which dear of you I hold Glisten not of silver not of gold The things of you which I hold dear Are the respite breath of you held near Shall I write in prose and write in psalms Of your tempest wind and sedate calm Shall the psalms and prose of you I write Be storm cloud or silver lined light In the quiet silence of the night I find your dawn breaking bright Gold not of sun nor silver star There you with me in breath we are The things of you which I hold dear The secret riddle of mystery clear More than silver yearnings and dreams of gold The things of you are the you I hold
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