famous poetry

i expect you
were it not for that singular smell
when the wind works against us in the dark
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
over the river they beckon to me
there are gains for all our losses
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
moonlight deep and tender
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
it was the autumn of the year
out of me unworthy and unknown
now that i have cooled to you