Until I saw the chimneys rise,
And lights and lights and lights, like eyes.
And when they took me through the door,
I heard It all begin to roar.—
I thought—as far as I could see—
That everybody wanted Me!
Pigeons Out Walking
hey never seem to hurry,—no,
Even for the crowd.
They dip, and coo, and move as slow,
All so soft and proud!
You can see the wavy specks
Of bubble-color on their necks;
—Little, little Cloud.
Cloud that goes, the very way
All the Bubbles do:
Blue and green, and green and gray,
Gold and rosy, too.
And they talk as Bubbles could
If they only ever would
Talk and call and coo!
—Till you try to catch one so,
Just to make it stay
While the colors turn. But Oh,
Then they fly away!—
All at once, two, three, four, five—
Like a snowstorm all alive,—
Gray and white, and gray!