O my darling troubles heaven with her lovliness
She is made of such cloth that the angels cry to see her
Little gods dwell where she moves
And their hands open golden boxes for me to lie in
She is built of lilies and candy doves
And the youngest star wakens in her hair
She calls me with the music of silver bells
And at night we step into other worlds
Like birds flying through red and yellow air of childhood
O she touches me with the tips of wonder
And the angels cuddle like sleepy kittens at our side
~Kenneth Patchen
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