I'm Not A Wren I'm A Nightingale She Wept Poem by Mary Angela Douglas

I'm not a wren I'm a nightgingale she wept
into the rains where this was invisible
and if it's all the same to you

what then is music
that you hear the false note true
and claim the brass

rings o it rings like cristal
we shall be satisfied with sand dollars
in lieu of cake

and for the sake of your fortune finally rolling in
be tagged as if we were driftwood
on the lacelike tides

and not pearls
so that you might enjoy your breakfast
your definitive worlds

the tray sent up with the eggs benedict
the orchid
and the morning papers

mary angela douglas 16 march 2016