The poem is as follows: Outside my window an English spring was summoning home its birds and a week-long fog was tattering into wisps and rags and at last I could see the railings when I looked out. I was a child in a north-facing bedroom in a strange country. I lay awake listening to quarreling and taffeta creaking and the clattering of queens and aces on the inlaid card table. I played a game: I hid my face in the pillow and put my arms around it until they thickened. Then I was following the thaw northward and the air was blond with frost and sunshine and below me was only water and the shadow of flight in it and the shape of wings under it, and in the hours before morning I would be drawn down and drawn down and there would be no ground under me and no safe landing in the dawn breaking on a room with sharp corners and surfaces on which the red-jacketed and cruel-eyed fractions of chance lay scattered where the players had abandoned them. Later on I would get up and go to school in the scalded light which fog leaves behind it; and pray for the King in chapel and feel dumbly for the archangels trapped in their granite hosannas. Have to admit, seems like an interesting piece of work by Ms. Boland, but I am having trouble with "TPCASTT"-ing this poem. Any help? (TPCASTT = Title, Paraphrase, Connotation, attitude, Shifts, Title, Theme). THANKS!