nature poem

there were three in the meadow by the brook
little gate was reached at last
there is no escape by the river
i think it just splendid
look out upon the stars, my love
among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
i love my life, but not too well
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
when i was broke in london
old wine to drink
earth travails
truely
up from the meadows rich with corn