My little window, four by three,
Opens on to worlds of witchery.
I watch the clouds go riding by --
White sails athwart the windy sky;
And limned against the sunset fires,
Plump sparrows huddled on the wires.
Away where curves the sky's blue cup,
Thin-etched masts go dreaming up,
And drawn within the disk's dark nets
Frail cupolas, and minarets --
Sweet, fairy-fashioned shapes that soar,
Far from the window three by four!
And outward-winging whirl my dreams
Unto these walls, until it seems
Only the empty husk of me
Waits at the window four by three!
First published in The Bulletin, 3 May 1923
