def poetry

it was many and many a year ago
last night the full moon laid a cloth of white
i love to steal awhile away
in september
i never knew the earth had so much gold
sun stepped down from his golden throne
when night drifts along the streets of the city
birds against the april wind
she must go back, she said
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
a blue-black nubian plucking oranges
blossoms of babies
the meadow was creeping
my mother twines me roses wet with dew