memorial poem

over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
pharaoh, king of egypt's land
through the broad earth's aching breast
do not turn your head
she might have known it in the earlier spring
woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me
the little pitiful, worn, laughing faces
it was many and many a year ago
i loved a woman
beneath the warrior's helm
daughter, thou art come to die
still her gray rocks tower above the sea
moonlight deep and tender
have we no shame?