short friendship poem

there are three ways in which men take
be in me as the eternal moods
in mournful numbers
glooms of the live-oaks
do the boys and girls still go
full of tears
at midnight
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
there is no flock, however watched and tended
the pale day drowses on the western steep
you are beautiful and faded
with the sunset
why do you always stand there shivering