haiku poem

let me move slowly through the street
it is true that you say the gods are more use to you than fairies
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
a little peach in the orchard grew
give me
in may
along a river-side
in mournful numbers
friend, whose smile has come to be
when freedom from her mountain height
you are beautiful and faded
wheel me down by the meadow
pushing out, struggling vainly