christmas poem

glass-blower of time
it was the autumn of the year
let me move slowly through the street
a mist was driving down
when i go back to earth
up from the meadows rich with corn
along a river-side
all those treasures that lie
it was many and many a year ago
there was never a sound beside the wood but one
we break the glass whose sacred wine
since, if you stood by my side today
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you