narrative poetry

little park that i pass through
be not angry with me
roses and gold
i gazed upon the glorious sky
she must go back, she said
what spiteful chance steals unawares
there was a time in former years
not from the whole wide world
she knows a cheap release
melancholy days have come
it was the autumn of the year
out of the deep and the dark
sweet with fern and rose
muffled drum's sad roll has beat