Classic Poem

Every evening now, for years,
As I have gained the top of the hill,
Three cedars have signalled me from across the valley.

I owe them a poem.

Companionable green angels,
Ambassadors of loveliness,
Princes in willing exile,
Telling familiarly of the burning aloofness of beauty
To all who will stop to hear —
I kneel at your feet!
Steadfast ardors,
Too wise for importunity,
Noble and negligent —
Touch me with the edges of your ragged mantles;
Give me of your way-worn, windy grace;
Shed from your homely, aromatic wings upon me
Healing and potency:
Accept my salute.