sympathy poem

night was black and drear
when you come tonight
we break the glass whose sacred wine
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
over the river they beckon to me
desolate and lone
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
i sometimes wonder if it's really true
this ancient silver bowl of mine
she was a beauty in the days
when i was a boy at college
he came and took me by the hand
the dawn was apple-green
brief on a flying night