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poem for pastors

i have to say good-night
in the dark and peace of my final bed
he came and took me by the hand
this ancient silver bowl of mine
birds against the april wind
now that i have cooled to you
there is an hour of peaceful rest
the little white prayers
with her hair flaying wildly
they in the darkness gather and ask
gloom
not from the whole wide world
be patient, life, when love is at the gate

 



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