child poetry

i have cast the world
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
i know not where
in your flight
better than granite
before the solemn bronze saint
a very remarkable history this is
day is done
made up of loveliness alone
sun and wind and beat of sea
if the red slayer think he slays
i am singing to you
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
a gleam of gold in gloom and gray