Once from a big, big building, <br />When I was small, small, <br />The queer folk in the windows <br />Would smile at me and call. <br /> <br />And in the hard wee gardens <br />Such pleasant men would hoe: <br />"Sir, may we touch the little girl's hair!"— <br />It was so red, you know. <br /> <br />They cut me coloured asters <br />With shears so sharp and neat, <br />They brought me grapes and plums and pears <br />And pretty cakes to eat. <br /> <br />And out of all the windows, <br />No matter where we went, <br />The merriest eyes would follow me <br />And make me compliment. <br /> <br />There were a thousand windows, <br />All latticed up and down. <br />And up to all the windows, <br />When we went back to town, <br /> <br />The queer folk put their faces, <br />As gentle as could be; <br />"Come again, little girl!" they called, and I <br />Called back, "You come see me!"<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-visit-to-the-asylum/
