He gently does his angelic work.

The school has four walls and its windows play
dominoes.

Daytime opens its laughing drawers: yellow battles,
slow cards, wise measures, sleeping gloves.

Then, evening glides on the blue and white icing, his
slate scribbled with animals and heads.

Bob’s toy-box contains a target, nails from wooden
shoes, gelatin balls, a picture with a hunter in a
derby hat.

At night, Bob sleeps in a little puff-pastry boat.