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!
To Me At My Fifth-floor Window
William Ernest Henley
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Poem topics: dream, music, wind, visible, floor, thought, window, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
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