Architectural Masks
There is a house with ivied walls,And mullioned windows worn and old,And the long dwellers in those hallsHave souls that know but sordid calls,And daily dote on gold.
In blazing brick and plated showNot far away a “villa” gleams,And here a family few may know,With book and pencil, viol and bow,Lead inner lives of dreams.
The philosophic passers say,“See that old mansion mossed and fair,Poetic souls therein are they:And O that gaudy box! Away,You vulgar people there.”
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