dark poetry

in all things not spoken of
their beautiful hair
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
shades of night were falling fast
sweet splendor
i am fevered
rose and amber was the sunset on the river
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
they threw a stone, you threw a stone
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
she might have known it in the earlier spring