death poetry

when freedom from her mountain height
the long resounding marble corridors
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
and with the humming bird
out of the sparkling sea
from song and dream for ever gone
there was a time in former years
the ships are lying in the bay
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
she limps with halting painful pace
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
with lips blood red and heart of stone
i cannot always feel his greatness
there was a strangeness on your lips