erotic poetry

my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
there by the window in the old house
little gate was reached at last
shades of night were falling fast
with the sunset
do i like it
daughter, thou art come to die
sad are they who know not love
the single clenched fist lifted and ready
these be
awful truths these be
somewhere i read a strange, old, rusty tale
what was it the engines said
made up of loveliness alone