poem and quote

in may
my soul is a dark ploughed field
all within and all without me
the fragrance came
some of the hurts you have cured
the meadow was creeping
they ask me where i've been
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
let me move slowly through the street
my sorrow, when she's here with me
my son is dead and i am going blind
there are gains for all our losses