best love poem

i make my shroud, but no one knows
sitting in his rocker waiting for your tea
no prey am i of poor thoughts
the snow whispers about me
i cannot always feel his greatness
with lips blood red and heart of stone
shades of night were falling fast
i see all human wits
as it
it was many and many a year ago
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
suddenly, out of dark and leafy ways
gloom
sweet with fern and rose