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72 Monday, March 12, 1928 I loved the crunching sound Of passive, crisp brown leaves around The borders of the woodland trail we found. I loved the leaden grey of water near the shore, the way It turned to red, far out: the rainbow spray Which sparkled in the sun; The mist the afterglow had won; The brilliant crimson of the leaves begun To blush and hesitate Upon the bunch; and leaves in fête Costumes. I loved the night which seemed to wait A moment longer still, To let the glowing senses spill A fantasy of pattern on the hill, On fifty softly thru The trees, splashing mist kind a few Bright dabs of gold on most. And I loved too; [[strikethrough]] The most [[/strikethrough]] The [[puiep?]], great silent tree, Her host still expectancy And you and I in silent harmony In weather exstacy. 73 Tuesday, March 13, 1928 Two weeks since I've written and that is too bad because my days have been lovely. The Al-Dan thing is still going, but now differently. Dan is first. Very much so. I love him! But no one else except Dan knows it. It is best that way. They will find out. Jesse Leo's party was fun. But no Dan. I have been writing to him. He has written wonderful letters. He quoted this poem - from Shakespeare. "Let me confess that we two must be twain, Although our individual loves are one: So shall those blots that do with me remain, Without thy help, by one borne slave. In our two loves there is but one repeat, Though in our lives a separable spite, Which though it alter not [[strikethrough]] ones [[/strikethrough]] love's side effect Yet does it steal sweet hours from love's delight. I may not [[evermore]] are acknowledge thee, Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame; Nor thou with public kindness honor me, Unless thou take that honor from thy name. But do not so; I love thee in such sort Thou being mine, mine in thy good report." I love you Dan. More than Al – Much! 3B