sad poem

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
i heard the wind all day
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
he'd even have his joke
do you hear the rain?
earth travails
soft as the bed in the earth
some of the hurts you have cured
as it
see the tentative
out of the window a sea of green trees
the mountains they are silent folk