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Poems

By Richard Chenevix Trench: New ed

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210

[This chest, a homely cabinet, although]

This chest, a homely cabinet, although
It keeps no jewels won from toilsome mine,
Nor rarest shells from ocean depths below
Drawn with unfaded colours bright and fine,
Nor doth not graven gems, nor vases show,
Nor old medallions of some kingly line—
Albeit no such treasures here there be,
Yet guards it what is dearer far to me.
But wouldst thou know what treasures thus are dear,
And over costliest things in worth prevail,—
Some pebbles quaint, some broken toys appear,
Some feathers from the peacock's starry tail,
Some books, of those that children love, are here,
An earthen lamp whose light has long grown pale,
With gifts a kinsman from the Indian shore
Brought o'er the sea,—these make up all the store.
But when that loved one left us on lofe's way,
Whose that they were did make these trifles aught,
Things sacred they became, which still, as they
Met our sad quest, or came to us unsought,
Or as the other children in their play
Found, and with awed and solemn aspect brought,
We gathered one by one, and laid aside,—
Dearer to us than golden treasures wide!