dark poetry

doubtless i remember still
come down at dawn from windless hills
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
daughter, thou art come to die
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
my true love from her pillow rose
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
do not grieve that it is over
out of me unworthy and unknown
into the silent land
lo! 'tis a gala night
within my hand i hold