retirement poem

i can not tell you now
melancholy, blue it was
beneath my window in a city street
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
that year
when, full of warm and eager love
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
blossoms of babies
melancholy days have come
three days i heard them grieve when i lay dead
gone before us
lived by the river-side
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
i went up and down the streets