wedding poem

the little white prayers
like him whose spirit in the blaze of noon
he'd even have his joke
on and on
sleep sweetly in your humble graves
the smell of the rose so false, the thorns so true
did you ever see an alligator
the pale day drowses on the western steep
i wonder where you live
muffled drum's sad roll has beat
what spiteful chance steals unawares
i cannot always feel his greatness
against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree