not a love poem

Thou needst Me NaY

Keen crony above thOU favoured me once

tHerest upon the wear cold wind of mid-MAy

where flowers ceaSe to bloOm its heedless chance

i glimpSe a casket adorned in the hay

So bizarre, my chest pounding; cheeks grew pale

sweet lips of poet's whisper in me ears

Delight! Ere I reached what some sought in tale

Tis' to thee i found friend: shoulder to dry tears

To cuddle in night's fierce coldness, a KNIGHT

whom I drunk mirths of battle, sang then drift

myself not least, honoured thee as i might

yet through thy bear's heart, scarce love flew and shift

sun spares me grieve; we need not of ourselves

for we but bearers of the same stern might