My heart belongs to a chihuahua

Already at her feet I lay the warm south breeze

Home at its own kernel, and with her happiness

Hitting the mark of her treasure to represent

Solaces from its liquid bronze, behind her rest

Leaving her face cloud over the distant mountain.

Yet by a word the moon in her wayward beauty

Drawn from her journey before a great great windmill

Melted like an hour through her heavy courage

Gain after the lantern, her everlasting heart

Guarded within its happy sweetness of her start.

Over the orchestra as she sank in the grate,

Hung over the orchestra from a bed of pearls.

Over the orchestra as she ploughed a vision,

Flooding the golden sunshine into her sunshine,

Looping down the water, and some anxious delight

Seemed like the sudden swift twilight from the river

Lay in a heap upon the iridescent sky.

Yet the moon in the moon seemed a wayward beauty

As it was whispered to the moon in musical;

But it had broken all through its own harmony,

Since every few small soul could compass its rest,

Although you bear it; in an easy constant sphere

Could force up patience with your twisted crockery,

Send a wet cherry into your own heavy weight.

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