I'M Carpeting The Hall Now

I'm carpeting the hall now, Having finished the rest of the house With my failed efforts at writing; Over by the threshold Are all the old love poems, lying face down- They're sulky, and if you step down on them just right They'll hit a high note, every time. And near the main doorway, Are my religious pieces; Always looked to be in mourning, heads covered up They're looking for evidences that they'll never find; They might weep feebly, so just step over them They're much more blind now, old and lame- Careful, you'll catch your toe on them. Here inside my room, Are the ones I'm most proud of: catching my eye, They sing arias to me, early in the mornings, And lullabys, in late evening- But they still sing only for me- Because nobody else ever heard them before And they never outgrew their cringing shyness.