free poetry

while i stood listening, discreetly dumb
truely
earth travails
tell me not
still thirteen years
passing through huddled and ugly walls
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
and how could you dream of meeting
be in me as the eternal moods
she must go back, she said
my soul is a dark ploughed field
and breaketh bread no more
the long resounding marble corridors