black poetry

sing again the song you sung
our pleasant moments fly
i had a dream and i awoke with it
not from the whole wide world
the agony of having too much power
had he and i but met
she heard the children playing in the sun
and how could you dream of meeting
from song and dream for ever gone
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
why do
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
do you hear the rain?