poetry

i had over-prepared the event
and so it goes
the meadow was creeping
darkest, strangest mystery
since i have felt the sense of death
do not turn your head
there are three ways in which men take
do the boys and girls still go
daughters of time
splendid and terrible your love
long has the summer sunlight shone
my mother taught me that every night
the ships are lying in the bay
along a river-side