Classic Poem

First of all, I draw the Smoke
Trailing up the sky;
Then the Chimney, underneath;
And Birds all flying by;
Then the House; and every Window,
Watching, like an Eye.

Everybody else begins
With the House. But I
Love the Smoke the best of all;
And you don't know why! ...
Here it goes, — like little feathers,
Sailing up the sky!