sorry poem

i said
i had over-prepared the event
there are three ways in which men take
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
one sweetly solemn thought
above them all, looking down
moonlight deep and tender
sing again the song you sung
if the red slayer think he slays
some of the hurts you have cured
which keeps
the old west, the old time
among the mountains i wandered