love poetry

o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
the saddest of the year
soft as the bed in the earth
and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
when i was broke in london
a pen of steel
be not angry with me
love has been sung a thousand ways
there is no flock, however watched and tended
long has the summer sunlight shone
the darkness rolls upward
in the cloud-gray mornings
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
lo! 'tis a gala night