famous poem

if i should die, think only this of me
had he and i but met
in new york harbor
i stand in the cold gray weather
the air is full of dawn and spring
to come so soon to this imagined dark
bring me soft song
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
when night drifts along the streets of the city
behold me, in my chiffon, gauze and tinsel
she heard the children playing in the sun
she burst fierce wine
i am weary of being bitter and weary of being wise
she might have known it in the earlier spring