sad love poem

to what shall a woman liken her beloved
did you ever hear of
stern cold man
if the red slayer think he slays
i have had one fear in my life
the pale day drowses on the western steep
sweet with fern and rose
a sky that has never known sun, moon or stars
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
which i wish to remark
long ago, in the young moonlight
up to her chamber window
before the solemn bronze saint