def poetry

still her gray rocks tower above the sea
what do i owe to you
calm as that second summer
i love to steal awhile away
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
the arches of the red bridge
within my hand i hold
the old west, the old time
when a deed is done for freedom
she limps with halting painful pace
a little peach in the orchard grew
there were three in the meadow by the brook
uplifting, as the wind blew
winged shadows sweeping by