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To You my friend:
'Tis the human touch in the world that counts,
The touch of your hand and mine,
Which means far more to the fainting heart
Than shelter and bread and wine;
For shelter is gone when the night is o'er,
And bread lasts only a day,
But the touch of the hand and the sound of
the voice
Sing on in the soul alway.
-Spenser Michael Free
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