christmas poems

there's one that i once loved so much
he'd even have his joke
you say you love me
listen to the sounding sea
better than granite
my son is dead and i am going blind
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
along the banks
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i make my shroud, but no one knows
soft as the bed in the earth
i gazed upon the glorious sky
she limps with halting painful pace
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies