A little picture, browned, <br />Had a tear on its edge <br />Where moth and rust <br />Plagued it away <br />Wherever was this picture found? <br />In an attic? Where dust collects? <br /> <br />A tiny picture, profound <br />In all measure, fledged <br />With beauty like gold dust <br />A blooming fleur bouquet <br />Like an old tea gown <br />It was tossed with willful neglect <br /> <br />It did, very much, astound <br />Those who pledged <br />Their direct trust <br />Who lived in that day <br />Who’s beauty it drank down <br />In honest respect, its object <br /> <br />An old memory found <br />In a river of images read <br />The old photo must, <br />Their very lives, convey <br />A time, awfully proud <br />And happy, and perfect<br /><br />Annie Cordelia Adams<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-little-picture/
