In Heaven, of course, God lives
In a vast marble palace. Formerly
It was all brightly painted.
Tastes change; it is now blindingly white.
Since the terms of His being require
That He be everywhere, He maintains
A high-ceilinged apartment in Hell
On a quiet street Baron Haussman
Razed from Paris. (Hell often buys such things;
From the roof of God's building one can see
Most of the 1939 New York World's Fair.)
In a small cupboard off the servants' room
(What sort of God travels without
A valet, a factotum and two cooks?)
Are piles of wingless prayers
All of which God intends to answer, someday.
In a vast marble palace. Formerly
It was all brightly painted.
Tastes change; it is now blindingly white.
Since the terms of His being require
That He be everywhere, He maintains
A high-ceilinged apartment in Hell
On a quiet street Baron Haussman
Razed from Paris. (Hell often buys such things;
From the roof of God's building one can see
Most of the 1939 New York World's Fair.)
In a small cupboard off the servants' room
(What sort of God travels without
A valet, a factotum and two cooks?)
Are piles of wingless prayers
All of which God intends to answer, someday.
