i miss you poem

if the red slayer think he slays
he came and took me by the hand
as a naked man i go
my mother taught me that every night
why then, must we see?
through the broad earth's aching breast
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
in their ragged regimentals
when i was a boy at college
as a white candle
within this lowly grave a conqueror lies
up and down he goes
there are gains for all our losses