Use me and think of soul and mind and wonder yet to be.
This is the jest: Could soul touch soul if it were not for me?
For Her Doll’s House
Girl doll would be a silken flower and look as real flowers do;
Boy doll would be a telephone and have the world speak through.
The poet doll would like to be the doorbell with a tongue
For other little dolls like bells most sensitively rung.
The paper doll would be a queen, the Dinah doll a star,
And all—how ignominious!—are only what they are.
For Her Candle-stick
Taper, winnow the world of its angles and where
Were sharp things lay softness, Night-god of the air!
For the Chimney-place
I am the causeway to the upper places
That the fire understands.
I am the link with everything unspoken.
How well I warm your hands.
For a Flower Pot
Call sweetness into being.
Let it live in me.
The seed, the soil, the sun and I
Work with authority.
For the Telephone