poetry contest

i love to steal awhile away
weak-winged is song
simply speaking
tell me less or tell me more
now that i have cooled to you
there is no flock, however watched and tended
there is a city, builded by no hand
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
in all things not spoken of
her face is fair and smooth and fine
often i think of the beautiful town
in mournful numbers
for then without
out of the sparkling sea