erotic poem

high walls and huge
he'd even have his joke
and so it goes
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
they ask me where i've been
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
up from the meadows rich with corn
why so sad my lovely one?
moonlight deep and tender
a look is but a ray
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
why are the things that have no death
storm
could we but know