The Seamstress's Daughter Sleeps Tonight

A Doll House

So let us lift our stormy umbrellas unto the sky
To shade from the fiery pianos strung like marionettes
And hung from some distant ceiling of pillowy cloud

And in a miniature room, by the windowsill watching
Outside where a one legged man stands and on his head is writ
Idyllvine St.

And in a miniature room, besides the lamp posts
With their skinny heads hung low and spirits dim
I will rest easy, I will sleep with this pastoral reticence

This moon, I wait on tiny, yellow, wooden chairs--
Fiery pianos float in the sky,
And a kite dreamer never dies.