poem

risen from the dead
i love the old melodious lays
are you alive?
why are the things that have no death
in all things not spoken of
let us pity those who are better off than we are
and how could you dream of meeting
how wild, how witch-like weird that life should be
not from the whole wide world
tell me
when i was a boy at college
let us plant
those on the top say they know you, earth-they are liars
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor