gothic poetry

out of the window a sea of green trees
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
in halls of sleep you wandered by
the dawn was apple-green
if i were very sure
i can not tell you now
let me move slowly through the street
rocked in the cradle of the deep
i know what you're going to say
it was many and many a year ago
a flying word from here and there
and my name is truthful
doubtless i remember still
out of the sparkling sea