friend poem

the old west, the old time
i stood
let us pity those who are better off than we are
since i have felt the sense of death
and my name is truthful
i never knew the earth had so much gold
be in me as the eternal moods
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
i burn no incense
gone are the three, those sisters rare
all within and all without me
i gazed upon the glorious sky
she might have known it in the earlier spring
pharaoh, king of egypt's land