Classic Poem

Trees
have held these flecks of light
these brittle stars that in the night
flash
on the unfolding fans of space

Blue fans
that bring me peace
and nerves that cease
to feel
the torture of day's lease
of life and lust. O day that hurt
the heart and pillag'd the short
and shatter'd frame of good report.

O noon that bled
till night had led
the lover's limbs to love's deathbed.