angel poem

among the smoke and fog of a december afternoon
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
out of me unworthy and unknown
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
the air is full of dawn and spring
no prey am i of poor thoughts
friend, whose smile has come to be
world that changes under my hand
i love my life, but not too well
i think it just splendid
why do
softly weeping
she must go back, she said