death poem

all within and all without me
there is a city, builded by no hand
my mother taught me that every night
what was it the engines said
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes
renew the vision of delight
therefore i may not
a mist was driving down
burly, dozing humble-bee
very well, you liberals
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
friend, whose smile has come to be
when the hours of day are numbered