I love old things
Weather-beaten houses with moss-grown roofs
Where memories of generations cling
Old china fragile as the lily hands
That painted blossoms on it long ago
Brasses from those dimly lighted shops
Where skull-capped ancients peddled hammered ware ...
Old books where scattered margin notes
Are indices to histories never told
Old people who have aged like ivory
Made beautiful by time's poetic touch
Old loves that remember music
Are sweeter as their memory grows old
And pictures on whose colors time has laid
A hand that tempers them to golden tones ...