missing you poem

there are three ways in which men take
babylon-where i go dreaming
in new york harbor
she might have known it in the earlier spring
i burn no incense
quietly, with reverance, in awe
i think it just splendid
i was a goddess ere the marble found me
there were three in the meadow by the brook
he'd even have his joke
still thirteen years
i expect you
where shall i find you
do i like it