sad poetry

a poet, having taken the bridle off his tongue
the child who threw away leaf after leaf
in your arms was still delight
up from the south at break of day
they in the darkness gather and ask
but i cannot read you now
when the veil from the eyes is lifted
come down at dawn from windless hills
i love the old melodious lays
on and on
what was it the engines said
i expect you
star-dust and vaporous light