Design for Heaven, 1941

THE Souls of the Departed sit and rock
Before their houses, all alike, in rows
Which endlessly extend along the block,
With little lawns, white walks, and time to doze.
All Heaven is a suburb. As a rule,
The city is a dim and distant thing.
The breeze is always westerly and cool.
The Time is always afternoon, in spring.
The clouds are white along the edge of sky.
The signs of sudden storm are never seen.
The washing on the line is always dry.
The afternoon is long. The grass is green.
The only sound they hear, who sit and rock
Upon Eternal Porch as God commands,
Is distant, constant tick of shining Clock,
Which hangs in place of sun, and has no hands.