Dear human though fifty times I’ve died
This death is no less grieving me inside
So many resurrections in the spring
Lessen not the death that autumns bring
Arboreal Friend, excepting that I knew
That in this place you will come and leaf anew
Nor I could bear the coming cold and dark
Go to sleep then, I guard you in our park
One of the series of park poems, this time with a theme of death, treated here with a circumspection that was also typical of DMP's conversation.
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