THEY'VE flowers and cakes and candle-light,
And chair by crowded chair,
And I am very sweet and kind,
Because I do not care . . .
I think that I am hoping still
If I am very good
And talk to these around me
As a courteous lady should
The room will softly split across
And roll to left and right
With all its smiling pasteboard folks
And colored things and light
And let me run into the grass
And climb a sunset hill,
And find three hours one year ago,
When I was living still.