It is a high, carved sideboard made of oak.
The dark old wood, like old folks, seems kind;
Its drawers are open, and its odours
The darkness with the scent of strong old wine.
Its drawers are full, a final resting
For scented, yellowed linens, scraps of
Foe wives or children, worn and faded bows,
Grandmothers' collars made of figured lace;
There you will find old medals, locks of
Or yellow hair, and portraits, and a dried
Whose perfume mingles with the smell of fruit.- O sideboard of old, you know a great deal
And could tell us your tales, yet you stand
As we slowly open your old dark door.
