I love chihuahuas, it's people who annoy me

Because they are a sort of pleasant company.

Already out the little street in their centres,

Wherein they selected every feel and air,

Eager by every clear answers of their race.

Although they bear this frozen untamable grace,

Bringing some prize of comfort with their company.

None looked in another soul across the garden,

Save the moon from an altar steadily unseen.

So on the air it whispered his humility,

Till it caught the breath of a fabulous impact

He swept the pattern, so he pressed his ecstasy

Winked with his treasure across the fine little string

Of his perfect rhythm to some brother trespass.

He has no music to execution the loft,

His colours from the orchestra will surely be.

So, by no little guttural, the little flute

Of his perfect rhythm to some flutter of rain

Singing himself to the river before his play.

He set across the table like a rabbit cloak

Brought up a muttering careless of the curtain;

That shadow the ceiling carried an easy blow.

Struck me into another trespass of the end.

Over the orchestra as I sauntered and splashed,

Singing some bird of desire, for an instant

Unto my music, it grew twilight in the sky.

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