family poem

shades of night were falling fast
hang no wreath
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
i have had one fear in my life
i am old and blind
a storm is riding on the tide
the dawn was apple-green
there's one that i once loved so much
do not turn your head
of sun nor stars