good bye poem

i know what you're going to say
the darkness rolls upward
it was a tall young oysterman
in the dark and peace of my final bed
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
were it not for that singular smell
when you come tonight
star-dust and vaporous light
i shake my hair in the wind of morning
there is a city, builded by no hand
gaily through the fields we danced
out of the deep and the dark
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways