The House 2
2.
In that distant house the barrel-organ sings.
The organ-grinder plays well.
Silence has come in the open door
and sat down in an ancient armchair.
On her faded dress is a withered flower.
She is sad.
The choice was dangerous, the way is lonely,
she is tired of the search and struggle.
Porcelain is reflected in mirror,
and revelation of the old books.
Here is a haven for poets for a long time.
Ablution from every-day lies and problems.
We will keep our verses here.
Our circle is small enough,
but we shall swear always to be faithful
to the Mistress of this house,
to the Mistress named Muse.
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