thanksgiving poetry

you are beautiful and faded
do not grieve that it is over
there is no flock, however watched and tended
the pale day drowses on the western steep
look out upon the stars, my love
but alas, just dreams
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
friend, whose smile has come to be
my true love from her pillow rose
when the hours of day are numbered
and my name is truthful
the darkness steals the forms of all the queens
i saw god. do you doubt it?