thanksgiving poem

against the green flame of the hawthorn-tree
let us pity those who are better off than we are
there is no escape by the river
i have cast the world
there's one that i once loved so much
night was black and drear
that year
i gazed upon the glorious sky
if it
beneath the warrior's helm
do not grieve that it is over
and so it goes
when sea-winds pierced our solitudes