love poetry

this is the song of youth
i make my shroud, but no one knows
shadows lay along broadway
passing through huddled and ugly walls
i expect you
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
burly, dozing humble-bee
in their ragged regimentals
when i was a boy at college
a thin gray shadow on the edge of thought
made up of loveliness alone
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea