i miss you poem

above them all, looking down
dark-eyed
when a deed is done for freedom
i have heard them in the night
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
i fill this cup
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
when night drifts along the streets of the city
a very remarkable history this is
she heard the children playing in the sun
i saw the first pear
grieve not for the invisible
for these white arms about my neck