narrative poetry

i have had one fear in my life
brother, i am fire
high walls and huge
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
be patient, life, when love is at the gate
star-dust and vaporous light
this ancient silver bowl of mine
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
but alas, just dreams
i saw the first pear
like eagles on up high
for these white arms about my neck
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
the meadow was creeping