Poems of Sorrow and Grieving

I who did not die, who am still living,
still lying in the backseat behind all my questions,
clenching and opening one small hand.

oh antic God
return to me

And did you still create me
And what was I like on the first day of my life

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, and then forever!

And thou art dead, as young and fair
As aught of mortal birth;

I know what my heart is like
Since your love died:

Wouldst thou hear what man can say
In a little? Reader, stay.

The world’s a world of trouble, your mother must have told you
that. Poison leaks into the basements

Dull to myself, and almost dead to these
My many fresh and fragrant mistresses

He could not die when trees were green,
For he loved the time too well

There is a hornet in the room
and one of us will have to go

Those twenty-six letters filling the blackboard
Compose the dark

My black face fades,
hiding inside the black granite.

A fool I was to sleep at noon,
And wake when night is chilly

This is the debt I pay
Just for one riotous day,

Come, come thou bleak December wind,
And blow the dry leaves from the tree!