My Living Gift
by James Harvey Stout
I give the sun of purest day
No planet's sky could hold,
And I play to you with rays of light
As were they strings of gold.
I tell you words of love,
Though love's not in the name,
But in a still unspoken spell
Beyond my softest wind's claim.
I offer you the riverflow
And light unheld by hand,
And of myself, my living gift,
For life is all I am.
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