poem for pastors

i walk down the garden paths
just as my fingers on these keys
a flying word from here and there
wrap the earth in cloudy weather
i think it just splendid
the agony of having too much power
my mother twines me roses wet with dew
in mournful numbers
from song and dream for ever gone
never in all my life
mid pleasures and palaces though we may roam
hang no wreath
did you ever hear of