wedding poetry

perhaps it is no matter that you died
still thirteen years
passing through huddled and ugly walls
in their ragged regimentals
you are my companion
high-born race
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares
though i am little as all little things
over the river, on the hill
city that is not a city
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
give me hunger