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autumn poetry

ich erwarte Sie
ich liebe, eine Weile weg zu stehlen
durch die rude Brücke
Farbtöne der Nacht fielen schnell
ich sehe allen menschlichen Esprit
sie sagte
ein Schimmer des Goldes in gloom und Grau
in die Dunkelheit und Frieden meinem abschließenden Betts
wenn der rote Slayer denken, slays er
einmal dieser weiche Rasen
glooms der Lebeneichen
er spricht nicht gut
warum dann, Muß wir? sieht
der alte Westen, die alte Zeit

 



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