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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!

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