A Poem
of Fare Well to Walter Zylinski
(Sonnet)
When through Death's valley I was walking, there
You walked beside. No better friend
Could man wish for, companionship more rare,
Or generosity as Heaven send.
The words of David's grief are on my lip:
"My brother Jonathan, I weep for you",
So ardent in the joys of partnership
That some untutored minds might misconstrue.
Like bees that gather nectar, you must fly
From bloom to bloom, as wings must fancy-free,
But lighting on our land from wind-borne sky,
You brought to blossom our Big Apple tree.
Let this thy praises to the angels tell:
The Spirit leads thee, may He lead thee well.
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