nature poem

there are gains for all our losses
the hypocritic days
the ships are lying in the bay
do the boys and girls still go
my son is dead and i am going blind
to the passionate lover
why are the things that have no death
there is an hour of peaceful rest
when night drifts along the streets of the city
quietly, with reverance, in awe
do you hear the rain?
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night