Most true and tender friend!
You called your gift
Utilitarian; and seemed to think
That poetry and sentiment were lost
Because of common everyday delight
And hourly usefulness of such a thing
Now let me show you that
The thought was wrong
You should have seen my mother lift the cloth
That hid the glowing luxury below!
A breath of such deep fragrance rose as brought
To mind wide visions of past country life:
The airy kitchen with the open door
And feeding hens outside: the shining pans
And milkpails drying in the summer sun:
The worn old barn, with curving roof and low
Dark doorway where the cows come trooping in
And crowd with clumsy patience to their stalls.
The long green lane with the wild cherry trees
Where in unlucky summers the white nests
Of caterpillars spoiled the tender green.
The whole wide country road, down which the cows
Were driven day by day.
Its deep worn ruts, and strips of ragged turf on either side,
The low stone wall surmounted by a fence
Of ragged rails and tangle of long vines
And the wide pasture, where the sun lies hot,
And all the cattle gather in the shade
Of arching trees; or stand in still content
And let the water ripple round their sides
A little river. But the banks were green;
And it ran in and out among the fields
And had deep holes where stealthy pickerel hid,
And shallows that a child might run across;
Where blue-spired flowers grew rank,
And dragon flies
Danced with bright wings like bits of flying heat.

Now surely you will see
That thoughts like these
Are far from unpoetical;
Yet these
Came all from your utilitarian gift.

I need not say I thank you: that you know.