type of poem

i am the wind that wavers
leave the lovely words unsaid
there is an hour of peaceful rest
did you ever hear of
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
let us pity those who are better off than we are
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
she knows a cheap release
rocked in the cradle of the deep
fat black bucks in a wine-barrel room
who will be naming the wind
and how could you dream of meeting