missing you poem

let us pity those who are better off than we are
eighty years have passed, and more
why do
short and sweet, and we've come to the end of it
and breaketh bread no more
those black eyes i once so praised
i never knew the earth had so much gold
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
if i had known how narrow a prison is love
sweet and strong
to what shall a woman liken her beloved
i've won the race
in your flight
within my hand i hold