Flour Raid Carpet Poem by Pierre Rausch

What is there left to desire beyond
Some flowers on earth, and all the stars in the sky
What did he think of the dogma
The point which we consider it our duty to note

Goodwill, Flour carpet raid
He entered the kitchen
On a level with the street

Not a single sprouting ambition
With this difference, that they
Was so well understood
We repeat it
She'd handle everything

So, be rich on retiring
Let a notary transpire him
Food and lodging
Without raising his eyes

Who appeared in reflection
Do you pay it in dismay