sad death poem

i saw him once before
there are three ways in which men take
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
perhaps
i loathed you
see, they return
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
listen to the sounding sea
by the shore, by the sea
she might have known it in the earlier spring
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
they ask me where i've been
blossoms of babies