happy birthday poem

she has a clear, wind-sheltered loveliness
the dawn was apple-green
the pale day drowses on the western steep
rocked in the cradle of the deep
good woman
it tells of good old times
we break the glass whose sacred wine
the old west, the old time
along a river-side
two rows of cabbages
but i cannot read you now
when i was a boy at college
blossoms of babies
over the river they beckon to me