All colors made me happy: even gray. My eyes were such that literally they Took photographs. Whenever I'd permit, Or, with a silent shiver, order it, Whatever in my field of vision dwelt - An indoor scene, hickory leaves, the svelte Stilettos of a frozen stillicide - Was printed on my eyelids' nether side Where it would tarry for an hour or two, And while this lasted all I had to do Was close my eyes to reproduce the leaves, Or indoor scene, or trophies of the eaves.