To me at my fifth-floor window The chimney-pots in rows Are sets of pipes pandean For every wind that blows; And the smoke that whirls and eddies In a thousand times and keys Is really a visible music Set to my reveries. O monstrous pipes, melodious With fitful tune and dream, The clouds are your only audience, Her thought is your only theme! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE FARMER'S BRIDE by CHARLOTTE MEW THE MEMORY OF THE HEART by DANIEL WEBSTER BEAUTIFUL EYES by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS |