Old Vase

A Little Old Vase,
Stood on the shelf.
All hid by the nic-nacs,
Not showing itself.

I spoke to it...softly,
In a casual way.
Tell me, O tell me,
Let me hear your self say.

How you were a gift,
To a woman in white.
How she fingered your porcelain,
And smiled with delight.

How some one else praised you,
And your fine line...I'm told.
Was raised up with flowers,
And sprayed with pure gold.

O little old vase,
It is your beauty I seek.
Rise up and come forward,
And let your self speak.


E.P. 1908 - 1989