(For Aline) <br /> <br />When you shall die and to the sky <br />Serenely, delicately go, <br />Saint Peter, when he sees you there, <br />Will clash his keys and say: <br />"Now talk to her, Sir Christopher! <br />And hurry, Michelangelo! <br />She wants to play at building, <br />And you've got to help her play!" <br /> <br />Every architect will help erect <br />A palace on a lawn of cloud, <br />With rainbow beams and a sunset roof, <br />And a level star-tiled floor; <br />And at your will you may use the skill <br />Of this gay angelic crowd, <br />When a house is made you will throw it down, <br />And they'll build you twenty more. <br /> <br />For Christopher Wren and these other men <br />Who used to build on earth <br />Will love to go to work again <br />If they may work for you. <br />"This porch," you'll say, "should go this way!" <br />And they'll work for all they're worth, <br />And they'll come to your palace every morning, <br />And ask you what to do. <br /> <br />And when night comes down on Heaven-town <br />(If there should be night up there) <br />You will choose the house you like the best <br />Of all that you can see: <br />And its walls will glow as you drowsily go <br />To the bed up the golden stair, <br />And I hope you'll be gentle enough to keep <br />A room in your house for me.<br /><br />Joyce Kilmer<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/houses-2/
