poetry anthology

for these white arms about my neck
let us plant
i had a dream and i awoke with it
in your flight
those black eyes i once so praised
the old songs
all down the years
they may talk of love in a cottage
death's nobility again
her face is fair and smooth and fine
sleep, gray brother of death
days endeared to every muse
leave the lovely words unsaid
with the meek, brown eyes