The servants' quarters in Queen Mary's dolls house

How well the plain wears.
The butler's room seems so
Desirable beside the Queen's.

The regulation parlourmaid's
Mattress though thin
Is posture-pedic on its wires

And not half as dusty as the King's
Nightly tossings in a turret
Of high dust curtains and crown

A room a Queen would fear to enter
Without appointment. Imagine
The closed curtains parting

Perhaps in the middle of a dream.
Oh, it's only you, the Queen
Come in and share the blanket

Which on the butler's bed
Is fastened with a pin
Perfectly proportioned, like the stitches.

How hard to arrange chaise longue
Escritoire, night cabinet
To look informal in a room

The size of a cathedral vestibule
Or to lower the ceiling
With huge portraits over fireplaces.

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Only the servants' quarters to which
They climbed, with trouser press
And floral jug, look neat

And gentle as an hour off
To rest the feet, open a book
And lie beneath the coverlet.