The Gamut

Soft day, be velvet soft,

My true love approaches,

Look you bright, you dusty sun,

Array your golden coaches.

Soft you wind, be soft as silk

My true love is speaking.

Hold you birds, your silver throats,

His golden voice I’m seeking.

Come you death, in haste, do come

My shroud of black be weaving,

Quiet my heart, be deadly quiet,

My true love is leaving.

–Maya Angelou

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