love poem

when a deed is done for freedom
i saw the first pear
therefore i may not
to some the fat gods
what spiteful chance steals unawares
it was the autumn of the year
moonlight deep and tender
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
one by one, like leaves from a tree
in the dark and peace of my final bed
i love my life, but not too well
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
melancholy, blue it was