The Fiery Furnaces
Whistle Rhapsody
The isolated lady
An isolated older lady;
A dignified dame who keeps her own counsel
In love with the out-of-the-way;
Identifying with the unfamiliar
Contemptuously turns her back on the wicked world -
Turns her back on the wicked world
With it's vulgar delusions and correspondingly
Scorns its regard

Our lady alone
With her scarf over her head
And her pricey purse over her shoulder strap
Wonders up at the heavens
And for yesterday yearns
The days of old

Often, she surrounds herself with
Like minded bluestockings
And together they regret the dear beloved
Simple folk struggle witht their confused
Concerns, still

But she puts her pity on pause
And withdrawn from the delicate
And uncorrupted by the crude-
She resigns even her own
Designs-
Then all at once
Brings in a breath
Purses her purple
Her honey-black lips
And lets loose a high
And round and resonant
And glad and grave
And westward, whistle