romantic poem

there are three ways in which men take
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
and how could you dream of meeting
in new york harbor
arched the flood
though i am little as all little things
let us pity those who are better off than we are
look out upon the stars, my love
winged shadows sweeping by
uplifting, as the wind blew
she burst fierce wine
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
days endeared to every muse