AUBERGIN and yellow glazes, Satsuma and rare old vases, In the studio on the hilltop; Silken curtains filter daylight, Where the mellow shade falls softly On a lacquered jar of rouge. Golden glints of prisoned sunlight Gleam within a wide-necked milk-jug, Downy folds of scarlet velvet Mirrored view their ruddy beauty, And the frisking flames of firelight Dance upon its polished surface. On a wooden cart it rattled In the quaint old town of Bruges; Over stones and bumpy pavements, Over crooked narrow streets. Once it humbly served the many Chubby, placid, Belgian babies. Toddling babies cooed and prattled While their mothers friendly gossipped. Sun-rays skipped across its surface In a wooden cart with others, Ample-bellied shining brothers. Golden glints of prisoned sunlight Gleam within its bright brass surface; Idle now, it lolls at ease. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SMALL SELF AND THE LIBERAL SELF by JAMES GALVIN SORROW SINGERS by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON A MENDOCINO MEMORY by EDWIN MARKHAM MIDDLE-AGED; A STUDY IN EMOTION by EZRA POUND WE HAVE GONE THROUGH GREAT ROOMS TOGETHER by CARL SANDBURG AT THE CHURCH DOOR by GEORGE SANTAYANA |