Who knows if the moon'SA balloon, coming out of a keen cit yin the sky--filled with pretty people?(and if you and I should get into it, if they should take me and take you into their balloon, why thence'd go up higher with all the pretty people than houses and steeples and clouds:go sailing away and away sailing into a keen city which nobody's ever visited, wherealways it's Spring)and everyone'sin love and flowers pick themselves

Collected Poems