The lady bade me linger for awhile Beside the cypress in the burying-yard. She fetched me to a graveside with her smile And set me on a marker cold and hard. She smiled. It all comes down to this, you know, That kings and merchants, each the same, Will sleep as brothers is a marble row Till mosses blanket over each proud name. I shivered mid-November air breathed chill And I looked down at my watch. The hour was late. I said, However much I d like to listen still, My appointment scheduled in the village cannot wait. She smiled and begged my pocket-knife from me, Then carved my name upon the cypress tree. 12-10-90 (04-18-80 Lamia)
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