grandmother poem

still thirteen years
i have heard them in the night
but i cannot read you now
though love repine, and reason chafe
all those treasures that lie
i went up and down the streets
melancholy days have come
lo! 'tis a gala night
a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
in the cloud-gray mornings
when i go back to earth
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
stay no more
have you seen walking through the village