Round white clouds roll slowly above the housetops, <br />Over the clear red roofs they flow and pass. <br />A flock of pigeons rises with blue wings flashing, <br />Rises with whistle of wings, hovers an instant, <br />And settles slowly again on the tarnished grass. <br /> <br />And one old man looks down from a dusty window <br />And sees the pigeons circling about the fountain <br />And desires once more to walk among those trees. <br />Lovers walk in the noontime by that fountain. <br />Pigeons dip their beaks to drink from the water. <br />And soon the pond must freeze. <br /> <br />The light wind blows to his ears a sound of laughter, <br />Young men shuffle their feet, loaf in the sunlight; <br />A girl's laugh rings like a silver bell. <br />But clearer than all these sounds is a sound he hears <br />More in his secret heart than in his ears,
