IN a little house keep I pictures suspended, it is not a fixd house,
It is round, it is only a few inches from one side to the other;
Yet behold, it has room for all the shows of the world, all memories?
Here the tableaus of life, and here the groupings of death;
Here, do you know this? this is cicerone himself,
With finger raisd he points to the prodigal pictures.
My Picture-Gallery.
written byWalt Whitman
© Walt Whitman