sympathy poem

when i was broke in london
on and on
into the silent land
who is the runner in the skies
i saw the clouds among the hills
in the cloud-gray mornings
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
the agony of having too much power
softly now the light of day
love has been sung a thousand ways
my soul is a dark ploughed field
up and down he goes
she limps with halting painful pace
gaily through the fields we danced