romantic poem

be not false
up to her chamber window
with the meek, brown eyes
beneath my window in a city street
along the banks
babylon-where i go dreaming
which keeps
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
we were not many
to be able to see every side of every question
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
who will be naming the wind
i saw you hunched and shivering on the stones