The Discreet Collector
Down south there is a curio-shop Unknown to many men; Thereat do I intend to stop When I am south again; The narrow street through which to go— Aha! I know it well! And may be you would like to know— But no—I will not tell! 'T is there to find the loveliest plates (The bluest of the blue!) At such surprisingly low rates You'd not believe it true! And there is one Napoleon vase Of dainty Sèvres to sell— I'm sure you'd like to know that place— But no—I will not tell! Then, too, I know another shop Has old, old beds for sale, With lovely testers up on top Carved in ornate detail; And there are sideboards rich and rare, With fronts that proudly swell— Oh, there are bargains waiting there, But where I will not tell! And hark! I know a bottle-man Smiling and debonair, And he has promised me I can Choose of his precious ware! In age and shape and color, too, His dainty goods excel— Aha, my friends, if you but knew— But no! I will not tell! A thousand other shops I know Where bargains can be got— Where other folk would like to go Who have what I have not. I let them hunt; I hold my mouth— Yes, though I know full well Where lie the treasures of the south, I'm not a going to tell!
Eugene Field’s other poems:
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