famous poetry

when i was broke in london
sweet with fern and rose
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
shines the last age, the next with hope is seen
it was many and many a year ago
a thousand silent years ago
backward, turn backward
over the rooftops race the shadows of clouds
were it not for that singular smell
for these white arms about my neck
gone before us
love has been sung a thousand ways
i see all human wits
birds against the april wind