What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?
 Can there be any clumsier design
 Than windows placed where sun demurs to shine,
 Turning livelong day into near-night?
 What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?

 Within, life’s fullest joy eludes our sight
 Or enters dimly, as through fine-meshed screen
 Or sheer imagination. Yet the scene
 Of outdoor glory blazes warm and bright!
 What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?

 Our homes, our “castles,” ought to boast such gold
 As bathed the vastness, that first day of old
 When cosmic sweeps were doused with yellow-white . . .
 What good’s a house that scorns to catch the light?

 We still have time, I think, to get it right:
 Slice holes in roofs for skylights, trim a bough
 That blocks our spirits’ sustenance; from now
 On, situate our homes at fitting height
 And setting, and an aspect that we might
 Catch all our outer, as our inner, light.