MY ANTIQUE LAMP by OLIVER MURRAY EDWARDS

My antique lamp from old Japan
Sends forth its light once more,
Its graceful lines and elegance
Charm as in days of yore.
Where once an oil wick did suffice
With feeble, flickering ray,
Electric light hath been installed
To suit the present day.

Discarded and forgotten quite,
For years a castaway,
Its origin and hidden past
Defy the light of day.
Once more a debutante, it charms
With soft and mellow ray,
While mystery from years long past
My mind and muse doth sway.

Quite often as I sit and dream,
The lamp doth speak to me
Of olden days when men were bold
And braved both land and sea;
Through quaint old city streets I roam,
Where paper lanterns glow,
While people strange, with dress grotesque,
Are passing to and fro.

There youths and maidens are content,
If light doth shine or not—
They never seek a darker nook
Or more sequestered spot;
There maidens' cheeks quite often burn,
And eyes flash fire and light—
'Tis not the same with rouge and paint
Where day is dimmed by night.

I wonder how in streets so dark
That people find their way,
While here beneath our brilliant light
They often go astray.
I think true modesty and worth
Doth shine from mind and heart,
While light that generates without
Is something else apart.

Strange shadows seem to come and go,
And chase across the floor,
And oft I seem to feel a draught
As from an open door:
'Tis then I waken with a start,
And rising, shake my head,
And bid good-night unto my lamp,
And take myself to bed.

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