death poem

when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
there by the window in the old house
blossoms of babies
do you hear the rain?
here lies a most beautiful lady
in their ragged regimentals
let me move slowly through the street
i stand in the cold gray weather
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
but i cannot read you now
she might have known it in the earlier spring
see, they return
one by one, like leaves from a tree