'TIS but a box, of modest deal; Directed to no matter where: Yet down my cheek the teardrops steal -- Yet, I am blubbering like a seal; For on it is this mute appeal, @3"With care."@1 I am a stern cold man, and range Apart: but those vague words @3"With care"@1 Wake yearnings in me sweet as strange: Drawn from my moral Moated Grange, I feel I rather like the change Of air. Hast thou ne'er seen rough pointsmen spy Some simple English phrase -- @3"With care"@1 Or "@3This side uppermost"@1 -- and cry Like children? No? No more have I. Yet deem not him whose eyes are dry A bear. But ah! what treasure hides beneath That lid so much the worse for wear? A ring perhaps -- a rosy wreath -- A photograph by Vernon Heath -- Some matron's temporary teeth Or hair! Perhaps some seaman, in Peru Or Ind, hath stow'd herein a rare Cargo of birds' eggs for his Sue; With many a vow that he'll be true, And many a hint that she is too, Too fair. Perhaps -- but wherefore vainly pry Into the page that's folded there? I shall be better by and by: The porters, as I sit and sigh, Pass and repass -- I wonder why They stare! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TO A MISTRESS DYING by WILLIAM DAVENANT FROM THE IONIAN ISLANDS by RICHARD MONCKTON MILNES THE MEETING OF THE WATERS by THOMAS MOORE THE LADY OF SHALOTT by ALFRED TENNYSON TASTE, AN EPISTLE TO A YOUNG CRITIC by JOHN ARMSTRONG IN THE STILLNESS O' THE NIGHT by WILLIAM BARNES HOUSECLEANING DAY IN VERMONT by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY TOWARDS DEMOCRACY: PART 4. THE SOUL TO THE BODY by EDWARD CARPENTER |