romantic poetry

come down at dawn from windless hills
soft as the bed in the earth
these be
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
just now
a look is but a ray
brief on a flying night
glass-blower of time
the body may confine
green afternoon serene and bright
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
when the wind works against us in the dark