All the words I need
Stored like seed in a pyramid
To bring back from the dead your living shade
Lie coffined in this thing of wood you made
Of solid pine mortised and glued
Not long before you died.
Words you’ll never read
Are good for nothing but to spread
Your greater love of craft in word and deed
A gift to make your friends’ desires succeed
While inwardly with pain you bled
To keep your own pride hid.
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