sad poetry

the dawn was apple-green
i love my hour of wind and light
in an old chamber softly lit
i saw the clouds among the hills
we break the glass whose sacred wine
let us pity those who are better off than we are
some one complained to the master
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
love has been sung a thousand ways
a thousand silent years ago
the ships are lying in the bay
happiness
when a deed is done for freedom