mother poem

i know not where
winged shadows sweeping by
renew the vision of delight
let me move slowly through the street
i saw the archangels in my apple-tree last night
i am old and blind
had he and i but met
do you think, my boy, when i put my arms around you
have you not heard
where shall i find you
if it
i love my hour of wind and light
all those treasures that lie
she might have known it in the earlier spring