thank you poem

full of tears
do you hear the rain?
she was a beauty in the days
eighty years have passed, and more
see, they return
sleep, gray brother of death
she said
braided and woven
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
do i like it
along a river-side
but i cannot read you now
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
when i was broke in london