Being her Friend

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Being her Friend
written by John Masefield
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    Being her friend, I do not care, not I,
    How gods or men may wrong me, beat me down;
    Her word’s sufficient star to travel by,
    I count her quiet praise sufficient crown.

    Being her friend, I do not covet gold,
    Save a royal gift to give her pleasure;
    To sit with her, and have her hand to hold,
    Is wealth, I think, surpassing minted treasure.

    Being her friend, I only covet art,
    A white pure flame to search me as I trace
    In crooked letters from a throbbing heart
    The hymn to beauty written on her face.

Coram St.

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