To my old Friend, Peter Schlemihl.
Well! years and years have pass’d,—and lo! thy writing Comes to my hands again,—and, strange to say,I think of times when the world’s school, inviting Our early friendship, new before us lay;—Now I can laugh at foolish shame—delighting In thee, for I am old—my hair is grey,—And I will call thee friend, as then—not...
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