erotic poem

love me at last, or if you will not
beneath my window in a city street
better than granite
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
he came and took me by the hand
had he and i but met
for then without
in the dark and peace of my final bed
my true love from her pillow rose
to come so soon to this imagined dark
from floor to ceiling
daughter, thou art come to die
calm as that second summer