Through the open French window the warm sun
Lights up the polished breakfast-table, laid
Round a bowl of crimson roses, for one -
A service of Worcester porcelain, arrayed
Near it a melon, peaches, figs, small hot
Rolls in a napkin, fairy rack of toast,
Butter in ice, high silver coffee-pot,
And, heaped on a salver, the morning's post.
She comes over the lawn, the young heiress,
From her early walk in her garden-wood,
Feeling that life's a table set to bless
Her delicate desires with all that's good.
That even the unopened future lies
Like a love-letter, full of sweet surprise.
Elizabeth Daryush's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Still-life by Elizabeth Daryush )
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
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