teen poetry contest

a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
he's gone
night was black and drear
do i like it
come down at dawn from windless hills
one sweetly solemn thought
were it not for that singular smell
in mournful numbers
babylon-where i go dreaming
why are the things that have no death
these be
along a river-side
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen