poetry contest

and with the humming bird
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
is there anybody there
i stood
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
over the river they beckon to me
i went up and down the streets
there is an hour of peaceful rest
have you not heard
this is the song of youth
there were three in the meadow by the brook
beside a stricken field