erotic poetry

shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
i have heard them in the night
in new york harbor
the ships are lying in the bay
made up of loveliness alone
let me move slowly through the street
with the sunset
the arches of the red bridge
earth travails
under dusky laurel leaf
to clothe the fiery thought
were it not for that singular smell