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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472633" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To My Old Readers</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">You know 'The Teacups,' that congenial set<br>Which round the Teapot you have often met;<br>The grave DICTATOR, him you knew of old,--<br>Knew as the shepherd of another fold<br>Grayer he looks, less youthful, but the same<br>As when you called him by a different name.<br>Near him the MISTRESS, whose experienced skill<br>Has taught her duly every cup to fill;<br>'Weak;' 'strong;' 'cool;' 'lukewarm;' 'hot as you can pour;'<br>'No sweetening;' 'sugared;' 'two lumps;' 'one lump more.'<br>Next, the PROFESSOR, whose scholastic phrase<br>At every turn the teacher's tongue betrays,<br>Trying so hard to make his speech precise<br>The captious listener finds it overnice.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Nor be forgotten our ANNEXES twain,<br>Nor HE, the owner of the squinting brain,<br>Which, while its curious fancies we pursue,<br>Oft makes us question, 'Are we crack-brained too?'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Along the board our growing list extends,<br>As one by one we count our clustering friends,--<br>The youthful DOCTOR waiting for his share<br>Of fits and fevers when his crown gets bare;<br>In strong, dark lines our square-nibbed pen should draw<br>The lordly presence of the MAN OF LAW;<br>Our bashful TUTOR claims a humbler place,<br>A lighter touch, his slender form to trace.<br>Mark the fair lady he is seated by,--<br>Some say he is her lover,--some deny,--<br>Watch them together,--time alone can show<br>If dead-ripe friendship turns to love or no.<br>Where in my list of phrases shall I seek<br>The fitting words of NUMBER FIVE to speak?<br>Such task demands a readier pen than mine,--<br>What if I steal the Tutor's Valentine?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Why should I call her gracious, winning, fair?<br>Why with the loveliest of her sex compare?<br>Those varied charms have many a Muse inspired,--<br>At last their worn superlatives have tired;<br>Wit, beauty, sweetness, each alluring grace,<br>All these in honeyed verse have found their place;<br>I need them not,--two little words I find<br>Which hold them all in happiest form combined;<br>No more with baffled language will I strive,--<br>All in one breath I utter: Number Five!</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now count our teaspoons--if you care to learn<br>How many tinkling cups were served in turn,--<br>Add all together, you will find them ten,--<br>Our young MUSICIAN joined us now and then.<br>Our bright DELILAH you must needs recall,<br>The comely handmaid, youngest of us all;<br>Need I remind you how the little maid<br>Came at a pinch to our Professor's aid,--<br>Trimmed his long locks with unrelenting shears<br>And eased his looks of half a score of years?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometimes, at table, as you well must know,<br>The stream of talk will all at once run low,<br>The air seems smitten with a sudden chill,<br>The wit grows silent and the gossip still;<br>This was our poet's chance, the hour of need,<br>When rhymes and stories we were used to read.<br>One day a whisper round the teacups stole,--<br>'No scrap of paper in the silver bowl!'<br>(Our 'poet's corner' may I not expect<br>My kindly reader still may recollect?)<br>'What! not a line to keep our souls alive?'<br>Spoke in her silvery accents Number Five.<br>'No matter, something we must find to read,--<br>Find it or make it,--yes, we must indeed!<br>Now I remember I have seen at times<br>Some curious stories in a book of rhymes,--<br>How certain secrets, long in silence sealed,<br>In after days were guessed at or revealed.<br>Those stories, doubtless, some of you must know,--<br>They all were written many a year ago;<br>But an old story, be it false or true,<br>Twice told, well told, is twice as good as new;<br>Wait but three sips and I will go myself,<br>And fetch the book of verses from its shelf.'<br>No time was lost in finding what she sought,--<br>Gone but one moment,--lo! the book is brought.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Now, then, Professor, fortune has decreed<br>That you, this evening, shall be first to read,--<br>Lucky for us that listen, for in fact<br>Who reads this poem must know how to _act_.'<br>Right well she knew that in his greener age<br>He had a mighty hankering for the stage.<br>The patient audience had not long to wait;<br>Pleased with his chance, he smiled and took the bait;<br>Through his wild hair his coaxing fingers ran,--<br>He spread the page before him and began.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oliver+Wendell+Holmes">Oliver Wendell Holmes</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=472633" data-title="To My Old Readers de Oliver Wendell Holmes" data-description="You know 'The Teacups,' that congenial set
Which round the Teapot you have often met;
The grave DICTATOR, him you knew of old,--
Knew as the shepherd of another fold
Grayer he looks, less youthful, but the same
As when you called him by a differen..."></div>
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