short love poem

as a white candle
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
a thousand silent years ago
beneath my window in a city street
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
in the dark and peace of my final bed
up from the meadows rich with corn
in september
the body may confine
melancholy, blue it was
to come so soon to this imagined dark
daughter, thou art come to die
i was a goddess ere the marble found me