fall poetry

it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
with joy and wonder
beneath the warrior's helm
for i was a gaunt, grave councillor
i love the old melodious lays
eighty years have passed, and more
in your arms was still delight
just now
through the broad earth's aching breast
she said
doubtless i remember still
what was it the engines said
look back with longing eyes and know that i will follow