poem for pastors

be not angry with me
for these white arms about my neck
the rain was over, and the brilliant air
i have come into the desert because my soul is athirst
o fair and stately maid, whose eyes
royal feast was done
the long resounding marble corridors
dark-eyed
beside a stricken field
there was a strangeness on your lips
do the boys and girls still go
these hearts were woven of human joys and cares