For A Poet by Countee Cullen
I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; I hide no hate; I am not even wroth Who found the earth's breath so keen and cold; I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold.
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