The Tea Pot


The tea pot sits with ease on the stove,

Like a king enthroned, with mantle steel-wove,

Looking about with an imperious air,

Lord of the beverage, please use him with care.


I am his subject and all who drink tea,

For our hearts he enriches and bans misery,

He sagely and warmly revives our bleak lives,

Makes slow hours quick with friends, even wives,


He is prince beneficent of calm and repose,

Himself sits in silence, with uplifted nose,

Save on occasion of dividing his wealth,

Brewing ambrosia, from herbs he gives health.