sad poem

did you ever hear of
in the cloud-gray mornings
when i returned at sunset
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
like eagles on up high
but alas, just dreams
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
and breaketh bread no more
the arches of the red bridge
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
when night drifts along the streets of the city
i have heard them in the night
the long resounding marble corridors