poem for pastors

and as we walked the grass was faintly stirred
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
in your arms was still delight
gone before us
one sweetly solemn thought
she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
my soul goes clad in gorgeous things
the air is full of dawn and spring
in halls of sleep you wandered by
within my hand i hold
glass-blower of time
in september
when night drifts along the streets of the city