Poems (Scudder)/The Swallow Vases

by Antoinette Quinby Scudder

THE SWALLOW VASES

I remember those vases. Never
 Have I seen another two—
They were up in the big north bedroom
 And were colored a lovely blue

They stood at each end of the mantel
 On their solid gilt balls of feet,
They were patterned with darting swallows
 Plump-breasted and lithe and sweet.

And a Delft clock stood between them
 It ticked and would never stop
It was painted with stiff Dutch landscapes
 And a sailing ship on top.

And the bed was an old four-poster
 And the sheets were always cold
And once the hot water bottle
 Leaked right through the blanket's fold.

And the dark green paint of the shutters
 Would blister whene'er it rained,
And I poked the bumps with my fingers
 Till all of my nails were stained.

And on winter nights down the chimney
 Would patter the wet grey snow,
And the trolleys groaned and clattered
 As they toiled through the street below.

Now, I think in my dying hour
 I shall see those vases two
With their circling, darting swallows
 On a sky of palest blue

And the squat Delft clock between them
 That ticked and would never stop
All painted with queer Dutch landscapes
 And a sailing ship atop.