I gave my thoughts a golden peach, <br />A silver citron tree; <br />They clustered dumbly out of reach <br />And would not sing for me. <br /> <br />I built my thoughts a roof of rush, <br />A little byre beside; <br />They left my music to the thrush <br />And flew at eveningtide. <br /> <br />I went my way and would not care <br />If they should come and go; <br />A thousand birds seemed up in air, <br />My thoughts were singing so.<br /><br />Marjorie Lowry Christie Pickthall<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/thoughts-10/
