River, with Boats

Of course she does not mind sleeping

On the deep fur of the bed

Beside the wide window

Where the birds hop,

Where the boats pass.

She can hear the hooters

Down there in a greeting;

She can see a flash of the river,

A glitter on the ceiling

When the wind blows

And the high branches of trees

On the other bank

Skip and bow in circles.

Only at the highest tide

The window is blocked

By the one framed eye

Of a tethered coaster

Swaying and tugging and flapping with the wind,

And the faces of the mariners

Crowd at the glass like fishes.