Classic Poem

Griefs forsaken now and lonely
And hurt that is too proud for sound,
Cluster together and rhythm the darkness.
Never let their names be found,
Lest loose syllables be tightened
For utterance, lest they should form
In twisted meanings. Know them as blowing,
Know them for ungathered storm,
Their soft motion will be broken
To quiet, like the stir of a dove,
Like the dropped leaf. Let them move.
They will not elude your silence,
They will make good love.