When passing by a silver shop I always feel inclined to stop Just to admire the pieces there, And think what skill, what patient care Those master workmen used to give Their lovely craft to make it live. They had the genius to impart Immortal gladness to their art. What fancies came at their command, What magic waited on their hand, When here they shaped in silver bright These things to last for our delight! "Ah, those," I murmur, "were the days!" Then Gladys at my elbow says, Giving my arm a little squeeze, "They were not half as good as these!" | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FIT OF RHYME AGAINST RHYME [OR, RIME] by BEN JONSON MODERN LOVE: 30 by GEORGE MEREDITH LYSISTRATA: HOW THE WOMEN WILL STOP WAR by ARISTOPHANES IRIS by KATHERINE HARRIS BRADLEY SAINT SEBASTIAN by VALERY YAKOVLEVICH BRYUSOV TO CAROLINE (2) by GEORGE GORDON BYRON DOVECOTT MILL: 8. THE COUNTRY GRAVE-YARD by PHOEBE CARY |