poem and quote

with the sunset
have you heard
he speaks not well
melancholy days have come
love me at last, or if you will not
along a river-side
rocked in the cradle of the deep
if i should die, think only this of me
how like the stars are these white, nameless faces
up from the meadows rich with corn
earth travails
my mother taught me that every night
and with the humming bird